Drink From My Cup
by Dadaismo
Summary: Hermione found it odd Hufflepuff's Horcrux had not put up much resistance, but too late she discovers that it has. Now she must find a way to right the damage she's done before Tom Riddle learns from his mistakes to become an unstoppable Lord Voldemort.
1. The End

Thank you to my readers and reviewers!

Hi and welcome! Some important things about this fanfic:

This is an Out Of Character fic, meaning you will see the main characters doing things that seem strange for their personalities. I try to keep Tom in character to the best of my ability, but I have changed Hermione in order to make her and Tom a more reasonable pair. I am a Ron/Hermione shipper all the way, but was really interested in writing a love story with Tom Riddle. Hermione was the obvious choice for the leading lady. Tom was honestly a more fun character to write, though I try to keep Hermione's core strength throughout the fic.

The first eight chapters were written within the first week I had the idea for this fanfic. The next chapters up through Ch 20 (Slumbering Serpents) were written within the first year.

That means the last chapters starting with Ch 21 were written over five years and are, in my opinion, significantly better than the first 20. (so hint if you don't feel like reading through the whole thing ;) )

Apologies to Hermione.. I know you're shipped with everything with a pulse...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & Co do not belong to me. They are JK Rowling's. Such is life.

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter One: _The End_

It was over. Officially and indefinitely. Hermione felt as though a hundred years worth of worry had been lifted off her chest and she could breath again… she didn't have to feel guilty smiling, and her and Ron could finally have the peace they needed. Hermione and Ron… they stood side by side behind Harry in the Headmaster's office now, Dumbledore's portrait beaming at Harry and Harry worn and exhausted from going almost forty-eight hours with no sleep had defeated the Dark Lord finally and for good. Hermione's heart swelled with pride and gratitude for her best friend. Harry turned to the two of them and she took it as their signal that it was time for well-deserved rest. Hermione turned to Ron, her eyes shining. They would go and see Mrs. Weasley in the morning and let her know even though she had lost a son, she would be gaining another daughter-in-law very soon. And there Ron was, with his eyes more blue and more clear than she had ever seen them in their seven years of knowing each other, smiling down at her, loving every bit of her bushy hair, her bossy demeanor, her know-it-all attitude, and her mutual love for him. Hermione gave Harry a final nod before she extended her hand to Ron, to take his hand so they could walk together back to the dormitories, so they could begin their new life in a world that didn't contain Lord Voldemort. Ron reached out to take her smaller hand in his, their fingers almost touching when the most unimaginable thing happened. Hermione retracted her hand. Confusion and a hint of hurt flitted across Ron's blue eyes for a moment as he looked at her face, which looked the same as it had only moments before.

"_Hermione_?" It was Harry's voice, for it was Harry's experience in matters such as these that allowed him to know when something was wrong a split second before others would catch on.

Hermione's body began to shake violently. First Ron and then Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and arms, trying to calm her. Shouts of shock and worry came from the Headmaster's portraits along the wall.

"HERMIONE!" This time the voice was Ron's, filled with fear and alarm. Hermione's body was convulsing and Ron and Harry were unable to hold her. She fell to the ground screaming in pain. Hermione would have been sure the Cruciatus Curse had been inflicted upon her if she hadn't already known that the Cruciatus Curse felt like a thousand white-hot knives stabbing every inch of her skin. This felt quit the opposite. It was as though those very knives were trying to escape her body, as though they had been inside of her and were screaming for release. She felt as though her skin were being ripped open. Ron's shouts and Harry's yells at Dumbledore's portrait for help were growing fainter. Hermione couldn't hear anymore and was sure that the pain would make her go both deaf and blind. In the midst of all her agony and pain came the question of what could have possibly caused her this much torture, what suffering could still exist in the world now that the Dark Lord was gone?

And a tiny realization hit her as she writhed with pain, a memory…

It had only been hours before. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts and Harry had sped off with Luna to find what may be the last Horcrux. Ron turned to her.

"_You know, Hermione, we still won't be able to destroy it," he said quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "We need basilisk-" he froze in mid-sentence, his eyes widening. "We need basilisk poison which we have right here in this school!" he said a bit too loudly so that he drew suspicious glances from the old members of the DA. Hermione's eyes widened in mutual realization._

"_Oh, Ron! That's brilliant! But…" she sighed, already seeing an obvious flaw in Ron's plan. "We can't get into the Chamber, Ron, we're not parselmouths."_

_Ron shook his head._

"_I heard Harry open that locket. I can do it. At least I can try. It would save us loads of time. C'mon." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the Room of Requirement, ignoring shouts of question from it's other occupants. _

"_We'll be back in a moment. Tell Harry we just went to the restroom!" Hermione called back to them as Ron checked the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. _

They had run down to the second floor bathroom, had opened the chamber, had walked down the high ceiling, ominous chamber, and had come across the basilisk.

"_Blimey, I don't know how Harry faced this thing," Ron said wrinkling his nose in disgust at the stench of decaying snake. "I'll yank all it's teeth out. You stay here," he ordered, and Ron had made his way bravely over to the basilisk and busied himself with his wand and it's teeth._

_Hermione, half exasperated and half touched by Ron's newfound chivalry, settled herself on the floor and pulled the cup of Hufflepuff out of her small bag. It was really a beautiful cup, and a shame they had to destroy such a historical piece of Hogwart's history. It really was selfish of Riddle to use these artifacts for his own gain. The cup seemed to reflect in Hermione's deep brown eyes as she examined it. And now they would never be able to see what great powers Helga Hufflepuff had placed on the cup. Hermione sighed._

"_Be done in a moment!" Ron called. "This thing must have hundreds of teeth!"_

"_Be careful, don't touch any of the tips!" Hermione warned._

"_You think I've made it all this way just to do something stupid?" Ron said yanking out a particularly long fang._

"_Just hurry up!" Hermione snapped._

"_Alright, Alright."_

_Hermione's attention returned to the cup. She jumped in surprise when her eyes rested on it a second time. It appeared to be filled with a clear liquid. Hermione opened her mouth to mention something to Ron, but closed it quickly. What was it? Was it water? But water was usually cool and this liquid seemed to make the cup hot… so hot in fact that Hermione's fingers were beginning to burn. But Hermione did not place the cup down. She saw her eyes in the liquid, darker than usual and with a fixed stare. Were they her eyes? Hermione brought the cup closer to her face to get a better look. Yes… they were her eyes… but not her eyes. The liquid smelled good. It smelled like water but with a hint of rosemary. Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the scent. She sighed again, but this time not with frustration but with contentment. She brought the cup up to her lips and inhaled. Heat entered her mouth and sped down her throat. Instead of drinking hot water as she had expected, it was as though she were drinking steam. Hermione continued inhaling until all of the liquid in the cup had been emptied. She sat there in dreamy satisfaction, the cup in her hands on her lap. _

"_Hermione?" _

_Hermione jumped, her eyes flying open. Ron was standing in front of her with an armload of basilisk fangs, looking at her with a worried expression on his face. _

_A pang of horror shot through Hermione as she glanced down at the cup. Had she really? No… she would never… absolutely not… so…. She composed herself, taking deeps breaths to steady her mind and looked back up at Ron._

"_Let's just destroy this thing, now. The sooner the better," she said hurriedly. Ron's worried look changed to one of amusement. _

"_Ok, I believe it's your turn to do the honors, but be careful. Something funny happened before Harry and I destroyed the locket. I don't know what this'll do," he said holding out a basilisk fang. Hermione grabbed it from him hastily and set the cup on the ground. It appeared less threatening now that it was about to be destroyed. Hermione tilted her head to the side. She hadn't… of course she hadn't… it was very un-Hermione-like to do something so illogically reckless. Hermione raised the fang. After this they would only have one Horcrux to go… She brought down her arm with all the strength she could muster and the fang pierced the cup, shattering it into a hundred worthless pieces… the cup made no resistance. Hermione threw the fang away from her and kicked the shards of the cup away. Ron looked impressed._

"_Good go, Hermione," he said patting her on the back. Hermione flushed._

"_Thanks," she said with a smile and shakily rose to her feet. Nothing had happened in defense of the cup… or at least she hoped nothing had._

They had made their way out of the chamber and back towards the impending fight.

And now as Hermione screamed out in anguish she realized the cup had made its defense and something had gone horribly wrong. She let out a final scream, shuddered, and fell still.

It was not over.


	2. Riddle's Revenge

I told you the next chapter would be longer. I think this one is rubbish. Things will pick up with Tom. Had to put some background and planning into it though? Got to do it right and all that.

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Two: _Riddles Revenge_

Hermione's leg gave an involuntary twitch and her body awoke. Hermione let out a groan. Complete and utter exhaustion was gripping her body, which was still asleep as her brain began to grip consciousness. She felt like lead, her breathing ragged and hard as she slowly woke up. She let out another groan and her eyes fluttered open. She was lying where she had fallen only moments before. Her brain seemed to register the fact that Harry and Ron were no where to be found. With that realization Hermione's brain began to move a little bit faster, forcing her body to awake as well. She sat up slowly, making sure to move her muscles cautiously. Her brain was already working an explanation to tell her two best friends when she found them. That she had been stupid enough to fall into the cup's trap… that she didn't know what this meant for the defeat of Lord Voldemort but she was sure she hadn't done any lasting damage… she had only made a silly mistake and brought torture upon herself.

Hermione's eyes were now focusing around the room. The portraits of the Headmaster's were snoozing gently. Hermione felt a touch of vain annoyance. She had just been writing around on the floor in pain. Surely that wasn't boring enough to put the portraits to sleep. But then Hermione's brain began to whir… something was terribly off. She rose to her feet, gingerly her body still aching from the previous turmoil. But Hermione's brain was the only thing whirring. Gone were the small trinkets and gadgets that usually decorated Dumbledore's office… even when Professor Snape had inhabited the room. The office was also rather dark, nothing like how it had been moments before when the morning sun had been streaming into the open windows. Instinctively Hermione turned her head toward Dumbledore's portrait, hoping to wake him up and demand answers… but it was not there. Shock numbed her mind momentarily before she realized that neither was the portrait of Armando Dippet. Hermione gasped and felt her legs shudder. She made her way toward the nearest chair and sank into it, hypothesizing on how the room had received such a dramatic change since she had lost consciousness. Tears stung her eyes. This was too much. She hadn't slept since before Harry, Ron, and her had broken into Gringotts and she certainly hadn't eaten in that time either.

She had spent the past few hours stabbing Horcruxes, battling Death Eaters, and helping save the effing whole Wizarding World from total destruction. She had been thrilled at being back inside Hogwarts, horrified that they had so little time to destroy three Horcruxes, elated that her and Ron had finally kissed, terrified by the battle and the death of Fred Weasley, devastated when she thought Harry had been defeated, and words could not express the joy she had felt when she had seen Lord Voldemort fall. The entire ordeal had been one big emotional roller coaster. Hermione placed her hands over her eyes and sobbed. Her body heaved at the force of her tears. She had never felt this frustrated and confused before in her life. It was as though someone had yanked away her happy ending. She continued to sob into her hands, not even realizing when a second person entered the room.

"Excuse me? What is going on here?" came a voice full of concern from directly behind her.

Hermione jumped and ceased crying at once. She looked up to see a familiar face staring into her tear-stained one with a look of utter bemusement.

"A- Armando Dippet?" Hermione stuttered, relieved to see at least one person she was familiar with.

"Yes, and that's Professor Dippet, Miss," he said eyeing her suspiciously. "And what has happened. Why are you crying in my chair at five in the morning." His voice seemed to be boardering on forced gentleness and aggravation.

Hermione jumped a second time. She had not realized that she had been sitting in the Headmaster's chair. As she moved with difficulty out of his chair and around the desk into the visitor's chair her brain began whirring again, searching for answers. How could Dippet be alive? Unless… the most logical explanation… which wasn't logical at all…. Hermione gave the room another glance, half-heartedly. She really wasn't sure whether she wanted her questions answered after all.

"P- Professor Dippet?" Hermione said forcing her shaking voice to be calm as she felt another wave of hysteria begin to creep into her. "What- what year is it?"

The Headmaster's brow contracted, strongly reminding Hermione of McGonagal.

"1944. September 1, 1944 to be exact," he said as-matter-of-factly. "Now Miss, I must enquire on who you are and why you are such a state of distress. You are not a student here, yet here you are bright and early on the first day of classes. You look as though you may have graduated by now. But then it is impossible for visitors to enter the school without myself, or at least one of the other teachers knowing. I say I might be floored if Dumbledore didn't know anyting about this." Dippet paused, a strained look crossing his face. "Yes, I think I'll go and retrieve Dumbledore. Wait here," he commanded. He strolled across his office and exited quickly.

This short speech of Dippet's momentarily calmed Hermione, her brain too busy working out what he had said and questioning his people skills to panic. Her suspicions that Armando Dippet had been better at the busy work the Headmastership contained instead of with relations with the students was confirmed. But now in the room alone again, cold fear began to creep up her spine like a taunting snake. The idea that Dumbledore was coming prevented her from relapsing into sobs once more. She needed to remain at ease so she would be able to explain her ordeal to him. But how much could she say? She wasn't even sure what had happened. Hermione assured herself that she could be certain she had managed to travel back in time as her eyes scanned the room and rested on the previous days issue of the _Daily Prophet_, laying on the Headmaster's desk, confirming the date Dippet had given her.

And besides, what could she possibly tell a Dumbledore of over fifty years ago? She had already broken the most precious rule of time traveling. _You must not be seen_. She was sure that this Dumbledore, like the future Dumbledore would expect her to uphold this wizarding law.

Should she flee? Perhaps she could escape now and avoid any more interaction with the people of this time until she was able to return to her own. She could take the secret passage behind the humped witch out to Hogsmeade and check in at an inn there. That way she was still amongst wizards but able to keep out of the way. There really was no way she could avoid being seen completely in the situation she was in right now. Hermione frownedat this thought but rose anyway, hoping to exit the office before Dippet returned with Dumbledore. But as if fate had it in for her, the voices of the two wizards she had wanted to avoid came drifting up the spiraling staircase.

"I swear it, Dumbledore, if this is your idea of an amusing prank… don't think I have forgotten about that muggle girl popping out of that cake you sent me for Christmas last year… I never felt more reluctant to Obliviate anyone in my life…"

"I assure you I would never plan such a thing for the first day of term," came the familiar sound of Dumbledore's voice, filled with amusement. "You haven't described this girl as scantily clad so I would assume that none of the other teachers would have either, though I wouldn't put it past Horace."

Hermione felt the urge to smile and huff at the same time. Dumbledore's voice had been something she had yearned to hear for almost a year and now it came, filled with life, up the staircase toward her. Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel the need to run anymore. She lowered herself back into the chair and waited patiently.

"It sounds to me as though this girl is in need of our help, Armando. She may be a refugee from abroad. Did she have an accent?"

"No, at least not that I heard. Well, you just talk to her. You handle the delicate situations better than I can."

And the door swung open and in stepped Dippet with an auburn haired Dumbledore, looking fifty years younger and but not as lighthearted as his voice had suggested. His face still wore some sign of age even though his hair was not graying, and his eyes were the usual piercing blue Hermione remembered from her years at Hogwarts. Here stood the man she, Harry, and Ron had needed to see more than anyone over the past year, who had died fighting against Voldemort, and here he stood oblivious to her fate and his own. As his eyes met hers, Hermione couldn't fight back the tears. She buried her head in her hands and burst into sobs.

"Armando, could you leave us alone for a moment?" she heard Dumbledore ask over her tears, though she could tell this was more of a command than a request. She heard the door close and felt Dumbledore kneeling next to her on the floor. Hermione steeled herself and lifted her head a few inches. Even when kneeling his face was still level with hers. She had forgotten how tall he had been.

"Miss, take your time to compose yourself. But once you are done crying I will need you to tell me exactly who you are and how you have come to be here." His voice was calm and gentle without being forced, unlike Dippet's had been, but there was still a note of authority in it.

Hermione took a few deep breaths before sitting up straight in her hair and staring at the rim of Dumbledore's hat. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes again.

"I don't know how much I can tell you," she said, her voice strained from crying and exhaustion. "I'm not from here. I'm breaking a hundred laws and I- I think I've ruined everything!" Hermione said her voice rising above its usual pitch, and she clung at her robes at her legs.

Dumbledore nodded calmly.

"No, I did not think you were from here. I apologize but in the short moment we met gazes I used Legilimency on you. I managed to deduce you were from sometime in the future. I will not ask you to relieve any more information to me. I doubt I can be trusted with infinite information about the future." Dumbledore paused here and Hermione almost lost it again.

"Please, Professor, I need to get back but I have no idea why I got here. I wasn't even holding a time-turner. There weren't even anymore after Harry and-" Hermione froze and covered her mouth with her hand. She had forgotten this Dumbledore had no idea who Harry Potter was and what had taken place during his fifth year at school. This whole situation was entirely unreal. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her, willing her to continue once she was ready. Hermione lowered her shaking hand from her mouth.

"I think I ruined everything. There is no other explanation. I couldn't tell you how since you requested I not tell you anything from the future and since I don't even know everything myself."

Hermione paused thinking of the hot liquid in Hufflepuff's cup. It had lured her into a trance, ensnaring her to ensure its own survival. Hermione groaned and closed her eyes.

"I'm sure whatever you may have done could be corrected, Miss-" Dumbledore paused waiting for her name.

"Granger," Hermione said truthfully. "Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger. It would be best if I could get you transportation back to your time. Whatever you may be facing there, it cannot be more dangerous than the prospect of throwing off the timeline. You must return."

Hermione nodded her agreement, relief spreading through her. Suddenly and inexplicably the image of Ron flooded her mind. He was there waiting for her. They had been together. They _were_ together. She must get back to him. She had not waited seven years to finally obtain him and then lose him all within a few hours.

"And you have much to gain from returning as well," Dumbledore said reading her determined expression. "But there is no known way to travel into the future. The operation may take some time. For now you must lay low in Hogwarts, where I can keep a watch over you. Have you already graduated?"

"I'm eighteen, sir, but I never attended my seventh year." Hermione didn't give any further explanation and Dumbledore seemed to get the picture not to ask.

"Then you will enroll as a seventh year student. You will attend the sorting tonight and we will tell the rest of the student body you are a refugee from abroad. Your lack of accent can be explained due to having a parent born in Britain. With Grindelwald on the loose," Dumbledore sighed and for a moment he looked as old as the Dumbledore Hermione had known him in her own time. "No one would be surprised that you have found sanctuary in our halls."

Hermione nodded solemnly. She could find hope in this situation. Dumbledore was here after all. He had never failed them yet, despite his imperfections. And now Hermione looked into his wise face for the first time knowing his dark past. Her heart swelled with pity for him. Dumbledore seemed to sense her change in emotion and patted her on the leg and rose.

"Miss Granger, it would be best if you were known by a different name, while you were here," he paused and for a moment she saw a distressed expression cross his face. "And prudent if you said you were a pureblood, to avoid prejudices and any extra unwanted attention." He looked apologetically at her.

For the first time Hermione felt anger fill her amongst the fear and guilt. "But I'm not a pureblood and have no desire to be, " she said fiercely. She had just finished showing the wizarding world how strong a witch she was and how proud she was to be nothing but a mudblood and now, _now_ after all her efforts she had to regress back to hiding her parentage?

"Hermione, please," he said gently. "I am glad you know you have no need to be ashamed of your background but now is not the time for pride. It is the time for safety. At this day and age the wizarding world still holds high prejudice against those with less than pure blood. Please, follow my advice. Is there a witch you admire in history?"

"Artemisia Lufkin," Hermione said shortly, still feeling indignant.

"Then you will be Artemis Morgen. That is a fairly Germanic surname. It should fit with your new identity nicely. If anyone asks you to repeat anything in German for them please just say that the language brings back too many terrible memories. That should be enough explanation to anyone."

Hermione nodded, meeting Dumbledore's eyes for the second time. She was thankful that she at least had this comfort.

"But you are tired. You must rest. Whatever has happened to you has drained you of your energy. The sorting will not begin until this evening, you have hours to relax and clear your mind. I will have the school nurse prepare you a potion for dreamless sleep. You may rest in the Hospital wing until the feast tonight."

Hermione rose, every inch of her reminding her of the agony she had gone through, which now seemed like days ago. Dumbledore grabbed her arm and helped her to the door with what Hermione thought was much more strength than she had expected from such a thin man. They opened the door to find Dippet in a crouching position, obviously trying to listen to what was going on on the other side of the door. The corners of Dumbledore's lips twitched.

"Professor Dippet, this is Artemis Morgen. She has come from Durmstrang, seeking asylum from Grindelwald. We must allow her to be sorted this evening. For now she will be in the Hospital wing, resting. She has come a long way and has been through much more than many grown wizards. It is time for her to rest." And without another world Dumbledore pushed past Dippet, whose eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline, and led Hermione down the stairwell and out into the corridor.

Hermione had no energy left to feel anger or guilt or worry. Her usually sharp brain had become groggy and could not function as well as she would have liked. She allowed herself to be led down the familiar passageways that had been filled with fighting and then rejoicing the last time Hermione had seen them.

They were nearly to the Hospital wing when Dumbledore stopped abruptly, still holding on to Hermione to prevent her from toppling over.

"Ah, Tom, I see Professor Dippet approved your request to return a day early," Dumbledore said politey. Hermione noted that Dumbledore's posture had become more rigid at the entrance of the newcomer. She shivered. Something inside of her had begun to pulse fervently. She turned her eyes to the person Dumbledore had just addressed to her right.

"Yes, I arrived only last night by floo powder, Professor."

The sight that met Hermione's eyes had been more horrific than anything Hermione had seen in her entire life, by far beating the images of a hundred dementors, wrestling giants, and enormous spiders. It was a young man, tall and handsome, with a thin face and jet-black hair. His eyes were almost the same shade. Nothing disturbing seemed to radiate from the boy but the pulsing beat inside of her gave it away. This boy was Tom Riddle. Something had gone awfully wrong. Why hadn't Hermione realized that when she had gone fifty years into the past this was what was waiting for her? How could this have been overlooked in the Headmaster's office? And Hermione finally understood why she had been sent fifty years into the past, though she still didn't understand how.

"Professor, is she alright?"

The low voice echoed inside Hermione's head before she chose to give into the cold numbing sensation filling her body, which was far more inviting than facing the truth that she may be the cause of the Dark Lord's return.


	3. How To Breathe

Hey, Selenoliber… can I have your children? This is a shout out for the fic _Tempura Muntatur_, which I have been following for a while. Damn, it's good.

Thank you, hpfanf for being my first reviewer! And a kind review too!

Noc007: Thanks and I certainly will check yours out!

Fireflyofhell: In the bible during the last supper (the night before he is crucified) Jesus takes a cup of wine and says, "Take this, all of you and drink from it. This is the cup of my blood, which will be shed for you and for others. Drink it in remembrance of me." I'll tie it more into the story as we go along. And thanks for the compliment.

Reviews make me happy!

Disclaimer: All poetry unless stated otherwise is written by me and cannot be reprinted in any form (including the summary, which is part of a poem).

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Drink From My Cup 

Chapter Three: _How To Breathe_

_First: sit_

_Disconnect_

_Dada_

_Nada_

_Nothing_

_Numb_

_The rush slips into your nostrils_

_Into your brain_

_Dizzying_

_And flooding_

_And somehow finds it's way downward_

_Into the lungs_

_Expanding_

_And filling_

_Stuffed_

_So now there is nothing to do but purge_

_And up again it charges _

_A gust of wind_

_Invading the mouth_

_Irritating the tongue_

_Fighting the teeth_

_And exploding forth._

_Next: Repeat_

This time it was Hermione's body that awoke before her brain. A silent pulse beat in her chest, stirring her brain into focus. Why is it that she had awoken out of breath? Hermione turned her head on her pillow and clenched her eyes tighter still instead of opening them. Thought and reasoning must come before she can be ready to face the day. Hermione's groggy brain thanked Merlin that she had not forgotten where she truly was, which she had feared would happen as Dumbledore had helped her to the Hospital Wing. She had feared she would wake up thinking she was nestled comfortably in her four poster bed, safe and sound, like she had so many times when she had been on the run with Harry and Ron. It was a most unpleasant feeling… realizing that she was not safe and sound but really in peril. Perhaps she was just too used to waking up in situations she would rather not be in because when she awoke today she knew where she was immediately and what had transpired before she had lost consciousness.

Hermione turned her head to the other side, still clenching her eyes shut tight. She had been sent back fifty years as punishment for destroying one of Riddle's Horcruxes. That could be considered obvious. That hot liquid was surely a potion. What it could possibly be she could not be sure. Hermione knew that first chance she got she would be up in the library researching. That idea brought a grin to her sleep swollen face. What she needed to find would most likely be in the restricted section, however… whatever potion Riddle used was bound to be illegal. That thought wiped the grin off her face. Riddle…. she was in much greater danger than she had originally thought. If she knew Lord Voldemort, and she certainly knew a disturbing amount about him for an eighteen-year-old girl, then she knew the potion must have been meant to ensure Voldemort could meet the person who had skill enough to retrieve such a highly protected and precious object.

_But why…_ Hermione thought, _why would I be sent back a year before he even knew of the cup's existence. Harry told us he wouldn't make the locket or cup a Horcrux until at least a year after he graduated._

She groaned in frustration.

_Perhaps_, said a small and wise voice in the back of her mind, _Perhaps it was to guarantee that he did not repeat the same mistake that allowed you to gain the cup in the first place._

A valid explanation, Hermione knew. But now that she was here… could she hide the fact she had destroyed a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul from him?

At this thought her pulse began to race more quickly and she realized someone was in the room with her. Hermione flung open her eyes and looked toward where she was sure he must be sitting.

Sure enough the dark figure of Tom Riddle was sitting beside her bed, already in his school robes, one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting in a hand, whose elbow was resting on a knee. She realized with a thrill of horror that his eyes were staring into her own as she opened them. Her pulse gave an unexpectedly sharp beat and her breath hitched in her throat. She promptly fixed her gaze on his left ear. Did this Riddle already know Legilimency? Could that be how he would know she had destroyed a piece of his soul? She struggled to regain regularity in her breathing. She could tell out of the corner of her eye that a smirk was playing on the corners of his lips.

But when he spoke his voice was serious and calm, as though he were trying to be gentle with her.

"Miss Morgen," he began in a quiet and low voice as he straightened in his chair. Hermione noted how he addressed her the same way a teacher would. Did this Riddle really think he had that much authority? "Professor Dumbledore informed me of what you have been through."

Illogical panic rushed through Hermione. Had Dumbledore confided that she was from the future with Riddle? She had thought Dumbledore had never trusted Riddle….

"It must be terrible and saddening… to have your family taken by Grindelwald. I am sorry for your loss," he continued. Sweet relief spread through Hermione, though she wasn't sure whether it was because he confirmed Dumbledore hadn't confided in him or because his voice was so smooth and calming. Hermione blinked and shook her head. She had to stay in control of this situation. She knew, after all, what a pathetic child laid behind that smooth voice.

"Please, just call me Morgen… or Artemis… no Miss," she said, her voice sounding sharper than she would have liked. She internally cringed, expecting an angry lash out from Riddle at the fact she would not accept his authority so quickly. Riddle's expression betrayed a hint of anger, but in the next moment his expression was sympathetic.

"Certainly, _Artemis_," Hermione almost visibly cringed at his choice to use her first name. It seemed too personal to be on a first name basis with Lord Voldemort. She was sure he was taunting her. "I am Tom Riddle. I am Head Boy here at Hogwarts. Professor Dippet requested that I help you around the school before the feast to help you become more comfortable and acquainted with your new surroundings." He gave a smile that Hermione almost found chilling. Could he really be this intimidating or was it because she already knew what he had accomplished thus far in his life?

"All right, _Tom_," she said emphasizing the use of his first name. She would surely not allow this pathetic child to fool her into any sense of coercion. But then Hermione remembered with a pang of dread that he felt much more animosity towards her using this name than just her defying his authority, and she suddenly realized how vulnerable she felt laying wandless in a hospital bed, with him towering over her like that. Another flicker of anger flashed across his handsome features before he resumed the chilling smile.

"Excellent. We will be good friends, then. Professor Dumbledore tells me you are a pureblood," he continued as though she had not made a subtle attempt to challenge him. He sounded as official as Percy but with no hint of pompousness. Tom Riddle really knew how to play his part well.

"Yes," Hermione said, trying with a great deal of effort to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "I am a- well, I am." A flare of anger filled Hermione this time as she stared into the face of the man who would grow to make her life a living hell and that of all muggle-borns across England. This sudden peak in emotion did not go unnoticed by Riddle. He raised an eyebrow.

"You are not proud of your heritage?" he asked with genuine curiosity. Hermione realized that the idea anyone with pure blood could be less than ecstatic about the prospect probably floored Riddle.

"I am," Hermione said haughtily, thinking of her true identity and her parents, who were probably still in Australia, oblivious to the fact that they did not have a daughter. Hermione bit her lip and turned her head away from him. She refused to allow the source of her pain and misery the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. The beat inside of Hermione's chest quickened as a trickle of tears burned her eyes and ran down her cheeks once more. Who would take care of her parents now that the war was over? Would Harry and Ron try to find them? She assured herself that they would. Her two best friends would most likely go to Australia at once, hoping to find a sign of Hermione among her parents. Hermione shuddered and composed herself once more. She would have to remain strong for the time being. She must put out thoughts of the ended war. She could not suffer these distractions while she was in so much danger here.

She wiped her cheeks on her sleeves before turning her head to look at Riddle again. She thought she saw a look of mingled curiosity and disgust on Riddle's face before his features slipped into a sympathetic gaze once more.

"I am sorry," he said, and he almost sounded like he meant it too. "It was insensitive of me to bring up something so delicate. I will leave now and once you are dressed you can find me down the corridor," he pointed to the left wall of the Hospital Wing, indicating that was the way she should walk down the hall to find him. "We will begin our tour there." He stood and threw her a last smile, before exiting the wing with a final glance of curiosity and a soft billow of black and green Slytherin robes.

Hermione watched him go with a growing sense of disquiet. Surely she would not have to spend all her time in the past with Tom Riddle? But of course it made perfect sense. Of course the brilliant Head Boy, who was so charismatic and charming, would be assigned to take a poor refugee under his wing. And surely Lord Voldemort's future self had enough faith in his seventeen-year-old self to believe he would figure out the truth. Her mind was filled with the memories of what Harry had told her. By now Riddle had already killed his father and grandparents and had created at least one- perhaps two Horcruxes. He was already immortal. The pulsing beat inside Hermione's chest had dwindled and she felt inexplicably calmer as she lifted herself from the hospital bed and began to dress in the plain black robes the school nurse had undoubtedly laid out for her. She would have to meet Riddle and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

Tom Riddle strolled along the school corridors both amused and annoyed. He was pleased that he had been allowed to return a day before the rest of the students. Of course he had told the Headmaster he simply needed to begin his Head Boy duties as soon as possible, but truly he had needed to return to the school to secure his meeting places for his budding Death Eaters and perhaps to do a little exploring while he was here. But then _she_ came out of nowhere, hindering his plans. Dippet didn't seem to know much about her and didn't seem as confident in her identity as Dumbledore had been. A refugee? She certainly seemed as though she had been through war. He had barely mentioned her background when she had burst into tears. Riddle noted this form of weakness in the girl. But still… he had appreciated how she had turned away as though ashamed of her pain, and how she had steeled herself so quickly. She was very curious. Maybe she would be placed into Slytherin and he would be able to examine her more closely. He doubted she would make a good candidate for Death Eater. She seemed too compassionate and lacked the proper pride for her blood. Plus, she must hate anything to do with the Dark Arts seeing as the Dark Lord Grindelwald killed her family. And that was the most intriguing quality of the girl. She was someone linked to Grindelwald. A rush of excitement coursed through Riddle as he leaned against the cool, stone wall where he and Morgen were to meet. What could her family have done to gain such a punishment? And why was the girl spared? Or had she escaped?

He wouldn't put that past her. She seemed fierce enough to hold her own. Tom grinned, thinking of her defiance. Well, she would submit once she saw the way the other students respected, admired, and even feared him.

One thing was certain… Artemis Morgen would be someone he would have to keep a very, _very_ close eye on.

Hermione finished brushing her hair and found her wand had been placed on the bedside table. She had never felt happier to see it. She had almost thought that her wand had been left behind in her own time, but here it was, waiting for her to pick it up. She sighed and lifted it into her hands, feeling a tingle of power and warmth course through her fingers.

With newfound confidence from being reunited with her wand, Hermione marched across the wing and pushed the double doors open. She turned left and walked along the corridor until her gaze fell upon the dark figure leaning against the corridor wall. Now that she and he were both upright, she saw how tall he truly was. He had to be at least as tall as Dumbledore. She stopped short of him and watched him apprehensively. He seemed to notice her unease and smiled his chilling, charming smile yet again. He noticed her tension.

"Don't worry, Artemis… I'm not going to hurt you," he said with a deep chuckle. To any one else this could have seemed like a joke but to Hermione it was a threat. She stood, unmoving, starting at a large, black stone set in his ring. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Resurrection stone. So he had succeeded in making a second Horcrux. Hermione stared at the ring with a feeling of disgust, fear, and pretentious knowing. Of course, he didn't know what kind of power that ring truly held. In his pride of foolishness he only thought it to be a tie to his pureblood ancestors. She lifted her gaze back up to his face.

His expression was unreadable, but it was not friendly as it had been moments before.

"Yes, why don't we start the tour," he said, his voice still calm and polite.

He beckoned her to his side and she reluctantly complied. They set off down the corridor, while he explained the school to her, stealing glances at her every few moments. Hermione was only partially listening. Of course having read _Hogwarts: A History_ more times than anyone else in Hogwarts's history, she already knew everything he was telling her, and perhaps even a bit more. What she was really paying attention to, however, was the tone of his voice, never wavering and never stumbling, the length of his stride, and how her pulse quickened to an unreasonable height even though they were not walking quickly. Her breath started to come in short gasps and she slowed. Riddle noticed her discomfort and stopped.

"It is a large school. You should get used to it eventually. Some days you may have to go clear across the building to get to your next class."

"Yes… I'm- I'm fine. It's just bigger than Durmstrang," she lied as she placed her hand over her heart's rhythmic beat. Riddle was in front of her now. He seemed more subdued ever since he had caught her staring at his ring. He gazed down at her with his dark eyes as though trying to read her mind, as though he could see her lies written across her skin.

She stubbornly fixed her eyes on his mouth, with was set in a slight frown now.

"You're a very clever, witch," he said after a long pause. "It is no wonder you managed to get away from Grindelwald."

Hermione, who had not been expecting this, looked into his eyes for the briefest moment, her breath hitching in her throat once more.

"Thank you," she said lamely.

"You did escape then?" he asked and Hermione felt the beat in her chest grow rapidly. "You managed to elude Grindelwald?" His voice sounded excited now, instead of monotone and refined.

"Y-yes," she lied again. She wasn't sure what else to say to him. Should she go into a courageous lie of her escape and flight to Hogwarts?

"And now you are like me," he said, trying to meet her eyes again.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, her voice sounding cross. How dare he say she was like him? Was she a destroyer of hope and goodness?

"You are an orphan. So am I," he said simply, his eyes searching for hers. He was searching for sympathy… for some common ground he could use to manipulate her to his side.

"Oh, right," she said. "And I'm sorry for your loss, as well," she added quickly, trying to keep the conversation polite but impersonal.

Riddle stared at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable yet again. Her pulse gave another sharp beat and she knew he could tell she was lying. He was Lord Voldemort after all.

"I hope, Artemis, that we can see more of each other," he said, giving up trying to meet her eyes and contenting himself with staring at her lips. "You are a very exciting person."

"Well, we'll see," she said readying herself to move away from him and return to the Hospital Wing. Their tour was nearly over anyway and students would be arriving in only half an hour. Before she had the chance to step away, Riddle was in front of her with one fluid motion, blocking her escape.

"I think you'll find, Artemis, that here at Hogwarts, I am seen as something of a leader. It would not be a wise decision to become my enemy." His voice was still courteous and low but a hint of danger and warning was weaved within it.

Hermione found that this time she could not avoid his eyes. Anger flared up in her with this new threat. She stared into his eyes, ignoring the steady pulse within her chest that she was becoming accostumed to whenever he was around. Her face was filled with a determined courage that suited her House.

"I don't wish to become anyone's enemy, Tom. So please, move out of my way. I have to get ready for the feast."

Riddle raised his eyebrows at her nerve. Maybe she would be sorted into Gryffindor and then he would have to keep an even closer watch on her. He took a few steps closer to her so that their bodies were nearly touching. He felt a giddy satisfaction that her breathing was become more ragged with every step he took.

"No, you are not looking for any enemies. You're correct. Though you appear as though you would like to see more of me as well," he added taking in her flustered state.

Hermione flushed, her eyes still shining with determination.

"Move," she ordered.

He made no motion but Hermione saw something else flicker in his eyes… something other than anger or curiosity though she couldn't place what it was. She also noted that he didn't seem as well put together as he had been back in the Hospital wing. It appeared that this close proximity with her was making him just as disheveled as her, though he was much more skilled at hiding it. His chest rose and fell at a much quicker pace than it had before.

After a few more moments of the pair's stubborn wills, Riddle stepped aside. Hermione stood frozen to the spot for just a second longer.

"Well?" Riddle said, his voice sounding with forced calm for the first time Hermione had heard it.

Hermione shook herself out of her stupor and moved away, looking back at him with what she was sure was the same look of curiosity he had given her as he had left the Hospital wing hours before.


	4. Illusions

Thanks for the reviews! 8 reviews in two days! **glows**

Thanks, Caity for commenting and helping! LAWLS!

Thanks Iklepsis, maripas, and jjp91 for the encouragements and thanks hpfanf for commenting again!

Nerys: Score! I'm glad you think my fic is worthy! I hope she updates soon too! Do you mean the link between Jesus and Tom Riddle? Haha. I am such a catholic it's not even funny. But biblical references are part of literature. I say if I am to be flamed for that then those flamers need to read more. :)

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is God. (hey! Biblical reference!)

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter four: _**Illusions**_

_Everyone keeps talkin time_

_Talkin rhyme_

_Everyone keeps saying how time goes by_

_And the seconds keep slipping away, fly by_

_But every spring ice melts like it did before_

_Every winter the temperature drops_

_Every autumn the leaves fall_

_And every morning the sun rises just as the day before_

_And the world ain't getting any older_

_As it's goes hurdling through space_

_To get back to where it was _

_Last year_

Tom sat in the Great Hall, his arms crossed, staring at the double doors. All students besides the first years had already filed into the Great Hall and had taken a seat at their respective House tables. Artemis Morgen, however, was seated right beside him, pointedly looking in the opposite direction. He internally scoffed and continued to stare at the double doors. The remainder of the seats around Tom had been filled with either admirers or loyal Death Eaters. He smirked, knowing that Artemis had to at least be impressed by how they were treating him. He only had to nod or wave and they were by his side, excited and waiting for some instruction or sign of approval. He had given a group of fifth year girls a particularly charming wink when he had been sure Artemis had been looking. That was when she had taken to staring in his opposite direction. No matter… whatever House she landed in he was sure she would get nothing but sparkling reports on his reputation. It was for this reason, however, that he would have to watch her more carefully. He had let himself slip earlier today. Something about her… it was most likely because she was a stronger witch than any he had met. Most of his Death Eaters were male and the women he did deal with were only to keep up appearances. The girl sitting only across from him had been his choice for last year. She was a pretty girl with dark red hair and a very pure lineage… but he had ended it at the end of term… he couldn't appear as though he needed any woman could he? She was staring at him out of the corner of her eye, most likely hoping to resume where they had left off the previous year. Tom sighed. He had bigger plans for this year. He cast another glance at Artemis, who was now watching the Gryffindor table with interest. He frowned, following her gaze. He would not like this one to land there…. It was too dangerous for someone so skilled and already so close to him to take root in his forefather's enemy's House.

The double door's opened and the first years filed in, being led by Dumbledore down the gap between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Houses and to the front of the Great Hall.

"Good crop this year," the red-haired girl said across from Tom, still eyeing him intently. Tom ignored her.

Tom applauded politely for each student as they were sorted into their new houses, and gave the new Slytherin's an additional smile or wave, and every now and then a pat on the shoulder. He noticed Artemis throwing him nasty glances every time he did this, however, and leaned in to whisper into her ear as the last few of the first years were sorted.

"Is there a problem with me showing welcome to my House's new inductees?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough so that no one else could hear him. He took pleasure in the fact that she tensed when she felt his breath on her neck.

"No," she replied curtly. "None at all." And she resumed ignoring him.

He scowled at her before placing his usual visage of calm back on his face and giving his nearest Death Eater a smirk. Mulciber was always one for a good laugh.

"Want me to take care of that?" Mulciber offered eyeing Hermione with a look of amusement.

"No," Tom said almost as quickly and sharply as Hermione had just answered him moments before. Mulciber raised his eyebrows at his leader. Tom's demeanor seemed as cool and collected as ever, however, and Mulciber glanced back at the girl.

"Sorry, my Lord…" he said now eyeing Hermione with interest. "I was not aware… does she have potential or is she another Lucretia," he asked throwing the red head a glance.

"She certainly has potential. She may serve as both. We shall see," he said and nodded to Dumbledore who had now turned to look at their table.

"Morgen, Artemis," he called, looking kindly in the direction of Hermione. Hermione rose on slightly shaking legs. It was absurd that she would go through the sorting process again though this time around she understood how heavily choice weighed into the matter.

She walked to the stool, ignoring the whispers that followed her up the room. She sat down feeling a bit foolish… she was eighteen after all and this was a ritual for first years. But if she must…

The hat dropped onto her head and she immediately prompted, "Gryffindor, please."

_It is a pleasure to see you once again, Miss Granger. I see you have become wiser since we last met, though I'm sorry to see you still do not approve of Slytherin. It really is a powerful house._

Hermione scoffed. "I would rather avoid Riddle than throw myself into his path, thank you."

_I see… yes I see it here in your mind… a very dark future for our young Slytherin isn't it? What a pity for Salazar. I am sure he would not approve._

"But he created the Chamber of Secrets!"

_Yes, he was certainly foolish there… there is no arguing that, but my dear we are here to talk about you. You wish to reenter the Gryffindor House? Well, you have certainly proven yourself worthy of it time and time again. I told you I am never wrong._

"Never," Hermione thought, glowing with pride.

_So you are certain you want to avoid Riddle? I think in that you are not being entirely truthful._

"He's the most vial wizard of our time! It was him and his Slytherin selfishness that brought me back here in the first place."

_That and a combination of Gryffindor curiosity._

Hermione groaned.

_Well, if you are sure you have no desire to see him…_ the hat continued, still sounding skeptical.

"I'm sure," Hermione thought stubbornly. Suddenly, a thought came to her. "Wait… how do you remember me if I don't put you on for another fifty years?" Hermione asked, her mind suddenly filled with questions on time-travel.

_My dear, I would have thought you would have known by now that time is nothing more than an illusion._

"But…"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione reluctantly pulled the hat from her head and set it down on the stool, her mind still bursting with questions. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging smile before she turned toward her familiar table. As she made her way toward the Gryffindor table, she realized she must have taken quiet a long time under the hat. Everyone was staring at her oddly and the applause was weak and awkward. Everyone seemed too interested in who she was and where she had come from to trouble themselves with applause. Hermione settled herself in a vacant seat between Nearly-Headless-Nick and a nervous looking first year. She looked back towards the front of the Great Hall, where Dumbledore had removed the stool and hat. Armando Dippet was now on his feet, smiling across the hall. Hermione felt how bizarre it was to have this introverted little man welcoming them into the new school year rather than the white haired Albus Dumbledore.

"Welcome back," he said kindly, smiling at the crowd of students looking up at him. "It is my duty to remind you that the usual rules still apply. The forbidden forest is still forbidden and the list of banned objects can be found just outside the hall. Also, I have a special guest to welcome this year."

The students around the hall turned to look at Hermione again. Hermione felt her face flush. She really wasn't used to this kind of attention. Usually it was Harry who received all the stares. With a pang of grief Hermione thought of Harry Potter and how worried he must be for her… and after all he had already been through.

"Artemis Morgen has come from Durmstrang, escaping the Dark Lord Grindelwald." There was an excited murmur across the hall. Obviously the name "Grindelwald" did not inspire as much fear among the people of this time as the name "Voldemort" had during her own. Hermione's eyes flickered over toward the young Lord Voldemort and saw him staring at her with the rest of the Slytherins, though his expression was more calculating than inquisitive. Hermione tore her gaze away and looked back to Dippet.

"I will request that you not ask her too many questions about what she has been through. I ask for your sensitivity and respect towards her. Miss Morgen we welcome you," and he began to applaud lightly. Hermione suspected that Dumbledore had written that small speech for him as the rest of the Great Hall joined in the applause.

But her thoughts were drawn away from Dippet and Dumbledore and even Tom Riddle when the plates before her filled with delicious food. She had not eaten a thing for who knows how long. Hermione loaded her plate to rival Ron and dug in slowly so as not to make herself sick.

"You certainly have an appetite for a girl."

It was Nearly-Headless-Nick. "But I have always heard the Austrians eat more than the English. Even when I was alive." He nodded at her.

"Oh, have you?" she said after swallowing a large bite of treacle tart.

"Why, your accent is perfect!" Nick said blinking at her. "Tell me, how long have you been studying English?"

"Err-" Hermione was hoping that not everyone she met would be this inquisitive. "My whole life really. My mum's from here."

"Oh, a Briton at heart! Well, excellent! You seem like you'll make a fine addition to the Gryffindor house. The Sorting Hat as never been wrong you know! Why, I remember when I first came to haunt these halls…"

Hermione allowed Nick to continue in this manner as she finished her dish and treated herself to second helpings. It was quite nice to be back in the Great Hall enjoying a well-rounded meal. Even Nick's rambling was a welcome addition; she hadn't seen him for so long.

Hermione felt content for the first time since she had found herself sucked into the past. She had to remember not to get too comfortable, however… she was still in great danger from a certain Slytherin boy. But the warm food and the prospect of a warm bed waiting for her up in the Gryffindor tower made her forget momentarily how much danger she was in and allowed the intense stare of a dangerous foe to go unnoticed….

Tom watched Hermione make her way out of the Great Hall, toward the Gryffindor common room with the other members of her year. They seemed to be politely interested in her. He was sure they would get along just grand. Anger burned inside of him as he rose to do his first duties as Head Boy. He had hoped Artemis would prove to be a more cunning character than he had thought… she certainly had struck him as clever enough. She could have at least landed in Ravenclaw… those fool's were so busy sticking encyclopedia's up their arses they had no time to take notice of Tom's going-ons behind the scenes. But if Artemis proved as clever as she seemed and she mixed that with the courage and daring of a Gryffindor… not to mention the age-old prejudice that house bore for Slytherin… Tom may have found himself a worthy opponent. Tom's mind raced as he nodded to each of his gang in turn to let them know he would be with them shortly.

The only way to ensure that Artemis Morgen did not become his opponent was to make her his ally. But she had already seemed to bare a grudge against him… before she had even been sorted…. No, this situation was deeper than silly house grudges. He would have to become closer to the girl to figure out how to deal with her.

"Excuse me, Mr. Serious, but can we get started?"

Tom blinked and turned around. A girl with chestnut brown hair was staring up at him with a raised eyebrow and a grin on her face.

"Hello, Caity, and yes we can get started," he said in his usually charming voice. "I am glad to see you have been selected as Head Girl this year."

Caity Zupan was in Gryffindor and, like the majority of the Gryffindors, she found Tom to be a nice but mysterious figure of the Slytherin house.

"Same goes for you," she said kindly. "I'll handle the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors if you take the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. And I think we should both agree that neither one of us will try to take over all the duties of the Heads. We wouldn't want to repeat Minerva's Yuletide fiasco of last year." Caity laughed.

Tom smiled. "No. I think we are both in agreement with that." Caity was referring, of course, to the previous year when the then Head Girl Minerva McGonagall had tried to decorate the entire school for Christmas by herself with nothing but a wand and deadly determination. The result was unpleasant to say the least.

Caity looked to the spot where Tom had been staring moments before.

"So…" she said a grin spreading across her face. "Have your eye set on the new girl? She is really pretty. But a Gryffindor? Tom, how very unSlytherin of you."

Tom forced a laugh that sounded anything but fake.

They finished exchanging pleasantries and went on their separate ways to execute their duties. Tom worried that Caity may spread around the Gryffindor Tower that Tom was interested in Artemis… that could turn disastrous…. He really was not interested in another courtship. No one would find him funny or queer if he chose to not date his seventh year. He had already had a number of girlfriends, which he had kept happy enough. He didn't need any more and once he was out of this place… well they could just assume that Tom Riddle had found someone and happily married. By then he would be too far into his identity as Lord Voldemort to bother about Tom Riddle and that figure could fade into oblivion.

He had been planning on using this year to focus on his future and finish shaping his identity as Lord Voldemort. Artemis was proving to be a hindrance already… and it was only the first day back. He would get to the bottom of this girl. He could be sure of that...

Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by a group of four girls who were chatting excitedly and telling her everything she could possibly want to know about the other members of the Gryffindor house, who was cute, and who had hooked up with whom. Hermione, who was used to hanging out with boys all the time, was slightly repulsed but still highly amused at the girls chatter.

"You can have Caity's old bed," Elizabeth said pointing to the four-poster nearest the window. "She's Head Girl now so she has her own room… right next to Tom's," and Elizabeth deteriorated into giggles along with another girl as the one of the girls smirked knowingly and the other rolled her eyes.

"Oh please," Hermione began, not able to hide the disgust in her voice. "Don't tell me he's some sort of Slytherin sex-god," she finished with a bemused expression on her face. Elizabeth and the other girl resorted back to their laughing while the other two seemed impressed that Hermione would dare talk about the Head Boy this way.

"So you've met him then?" the smirking girl asked. "Well, he's not really a god but… he has got a reputation."

"The Gryffindor boys hate him," the other girl added. "But they have nothing to worry about. We would never date a Slytherin, no matter how attractive he was."

"Speak for yourself," Elizabeth said, finally over her fit of giggles.

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or gag at these words. The idea of gossiping about Lord Voldemort's social life seemed too outrageous.

"I think- I think I'll take a shower," Hermione said, standing up and moving toward the girl's restroom. This was another luxury Hermione had been denied the past few days.

"Tom has that much of an effect on you, eh?" Elizabeth said, winking at her.

Hermione forced a laugh and made an exasperated face as she entered the familiar washroom.

Hermione sighed as she leaned over the sink, avoiding her own reflection. There was some truth in what Elizabeth had just said. She was reminded of the Sorting Hat's words and of what had happened earlier that day whenever Tom Riddle had moved too close. Hermione regretted more than anything now, drinking from that cup.

That night when Hermione settled into her familiar bed, her thoughts and dreams were mixed with images of snakes, lions, lost friends, and mornings that would prematurely turn to night.


	5. Lies part one

I'm glad peoples are liking my story. I like this chapter better than the last so I hope you do too. I did write a lot of it at 3 am so forgive me if I was a little off.

Thanks blindfaithoperadiva, tears of winter, shanti(hey my girl!), and ana for commenting!

And thankies, Caity, again.

Ivory: I totally agree. I'm trying to keep the OC characters to a minimum. Notice I kept most of the names of the Gryffindor girls out of it. Caity (Catherine) Zupan is a muggle-born and NOT a Mary-sue… I swear. No worries, she doesn't play a large role in the story anyways. She's there for accuracy. (doesn't the head boy have to interact with the head girl _sometimes_?) And thankfully we know the names of a lot of Voldemort's first Death Eaters, like Mulciber.

This chapter was so long I'm splitting it into two parts so it doesn't feel like such a beast to read. It is my ultimate favorite so far!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling blows my mind!

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Five: _**Lies part one**_

_Please stop lying_

_Please stop lying_

_Don't you know that I believed you_

_Because I have roses in my eyes_

_Could you blame me?_

_She said, "I'm not happy." They're not happy. _

_But what do you expect when you expect_

_Roses in your eyes and diamonds on the ceiling._

_The only ice you got is encrusted in your heart_

_Do me a favor_

_And get the fuck out of my head_

_Cuz I want my diamond ceiling_

_And the roses in my eyes_

_Life is so much better_

_When you don't know about the lies and_

_Could you blame me?_

_Could you blame me?_

Hermione's schedule was everything she had wanted out of her seventh year. She had pleaded with Dumbledore and convinced him just how intelligent she was and how much she deserved to take every class she wanted. She knew he would give in when she was almost in tears talking about Arithmancy.

But Professor Dippet seemed more skeptical and less willing to accept the fact Hermione could take on the toughest classes Hogwarts had to offer. He argued that he would not have Hogwart's high test scores and prestige lowered by an overly ambitious girl. But he gave in at the end when Dumbledore stepped in to plead Hermione's case. But Dippet, to ensure that Hermione not fall behind and that she continued to adjust in her environment, scheduled Hermione along side Riddle, the top of the seventh year class, for every one of her classes. In a moment of insanity Hermione almost considered that Arithmancy wasn't worth it.

Her desire to learn and finish what she had started seven years ago drew her in, however, and the following morning she headed off with Riddle to her first class of the term: Potions.

Hermione was used to Slughorn's boisterous and pompous demeanor and did not look offended when he mentioned how he was surprised someone coming from Durmstrang could have gotten into his most advanced potion class. She was sure she would show him soon enough how good at potions she truly was.

Riddle and Hermione settled next to each other at a desk in the front of the room, Hermione careful to not meet Riddle's gaze. It was almost certain that he knew some Legilimency even though he may not be as skilled as Dumbledore… yet. Hermione had practiced closing her mind before bed since fifth year… not wanting to fall too far behind Harry in Dark Art's defense. One-day the situation may present itself where Hermione would need to know Occlumency herself. And here the situation was. Hermione sat at her desk, facing forward and keeping her eyes on the chubby, dark haired Slughorn.

"Tom here is one of the best brewers I have ever had in my classroom," Slughorn addressed Hermione, beaming at Riddle. "He'll be able to catch you up in no time, you'll see. No worries, Miss Morgen."

"Thank you, sir," Riddle said modestly. Hermione hid the sour expression on her face behind her Advanced Potions book. Now she was suppose to be _schooled_ by Lord Voldemort? She thought not!

Slughorn tapped the chalkboard and a list of ingredients and instructions scrolled themselves neatly across it.

"Ladies and gentleman, take out your books and tell me what is missing from this list," Slughorn ordered.

Hermione's hand was in the air. Tom gave her an annoyed but curious look. Slughorn looked just as curious, but politely so.

"Yes, Miss Morgen? Do you have a question?"

"No, sir. The answer is root of hellebore. That potion is **_Gregory's Unctuous Unction_****, which **makes a person drinking it think that whoever gave it to them is their best friend." Hermione rattled this off as though answering questions was second nature to her, and truly it was. Slughorn stared at her with mingled surprise and delight on his face.

"Miss Morgen! You know your potions! Or were you only familiar with this particular one?"

Hermione blushed. "I try very hard at school," she said with true modesty in her voice. Tom gave her a scathing look behind his own Advanced Potions book.

Hermione leaned back in her chair as Slughorn went on about the benefits of effort and how it always paid off to do the very best no matter what circumstances one was faced with. She batted her eyelashes in Riddle's direction.

"Wow, you must be good. I'm already caught up!" she said to him quietly. He blinked at her.

"It was never me who said you needed my help. I am sure you are very capable at school," he said in his low, smooth voice. It was Hermione's turn to blink.

"Oh, right," she said in a small voice and turned back to her book, blushing, missing Tom's guarded expression….

The next few weeks were stressful on both Tom and Hermione. Their classes were filled with teachers who would at first expect Hermione to be behind but were then stunned and impressed with her intellect. It seemed that Tom Riddle had found a brain worthy to rival him in his year and the teachers never failed to jokingly remind him of it. She knew almost every book inside and out and could memorize whatever a Professor gave her in mere moments. Hermione was mixed with both the urge to perform well in school and stay out of Tom Riddle's way. She knew what with all the time they had been spending together, he was bound to take an even greater interest in her and the pulsing beat still had not ceased to thump every time he was near her… which meant Hermione had to put up with it through all of her classes. Hermione was finding Riddle terribly distracting.

Tom felt no more at east with the girl around him. He was furious at her for stealing his spotlight. Who did she think she was? He had worked his way up from nothing for seven years, and then she came strolling in from Merlin knows where and scooped the Professor's into her pocket. He was Head Boy, he was the teacher's favorite, and _he_ was Lord Voldemort: the heir of Slytherin. That was one thing he still had, he reminded himself during times when she had answered a question faster than him. He had already met with his Death Eaters the second day of term. Many questions popped up about Artemis but Tom had brushed them aside. She was merely a clever girl, he insisted. She may prove useful in the future but for now she was no concern to any of them. She was only a girl…

But Tom was finding it difficult to believe his own words as he spent so much time with her in class. He was beginning to feel a steady hum when he was around her, as though something inside of her needed to tell him her secret. Tom was finding Artemis terribly distracting.

Despite the anxiety of Hermione and aggravation of Tom, the pair managed to keep themselves under control for the first few weeks of classes. Tom remained intolerably civil and Hermione remained as distant and curt as she could manage. Dumbledore was having no success in his attempts to find a way to send Hermione back to the future, and she was having difficulty finding time to help him, now with her teachers loading up as much homework as possible… including Dumbledore. Hermione had not forgotten that her seventh year was the year she would take her N.E.W.T.s. She prayed that she would not remain long enough to take them in this time, but find a way to return to her own and perhaps take the N.E.W.T.s with Ginny's class.

And just when Tom and Hermione had had finally thought they had sunk into a regular pattern the two of them could tolerate and co-exist with for as long as need be….

"What," Riddle said sharply one Thursday afternoon in Herbology, several weeks after they had started term. "are you doing, Morgen?"

Hermione had been grinding a root of doxy before moving to repot a delicate fluxweed. She had to be sure to be particularly careful with this plant… it was so rare.

"I'm repotting the fluxweed, _Riddle_," she said, noting the use of her last name and replying in the same manner. Riddle scowled.

"No, I mean what are you doing with the doxy? Crushing it before the full moon can take away it's healing properties. You have just ruined valuable ingredients."

Hermione looked at her crushed doxy root and back up to him with a bewildered expression on her face.

"What are you going on about, Riddle? Doxy root has no healing properties. That was disproved by Morlena Mungshot after she-" Hermione froze and turned away from him quickly, cold panic rushing through her arms and legs. "I'm sorry, you're right. I- I'll just clean this up then." She had forgotten that Morlena Mungshot had disproved that theory in the nineteen-sixties. Riddle had no idea what she was talking about.

She thought she was off the hook when Riddle made no response to what had just happened and proceeded in relief to repot the fluxweed. But what happened next made her almost drop the precious plant on the floor.

Tom had moved up behind her very quietly and said in a voice so low only she could hear him, and even then she had to be very still to make out everything he was saying.

"I think it is time you stopped playing games with me, Artemis…" he whispered, his breath making the tiny hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end and the pulse to beat pleasantly inside her. He pretended to watch her repot the fluxweed. "There must be a very good reason why you seemed so confident in your knowledge that doxy root had no healing properties. I haven't seen you make a mistake since you arrived here. Besides the mistake of challenging me that is…" His voice dropped to a dangerous growl.

Hermione made no movement. Maybe if she only ignored him…. Her fingers trembled as she began to settle the budding fluxweed in its new pot.

Riddle continued, "I want you to turn around and tell me exactly where you came from and why you distrust me even though I have been nothing but civil to you during your Hogwarts career."

Hermione realized that Tom Riddle was done pretending polite to her. What she had just heard had not been a request from Tom Riddle but an order from Lord Voldemort. Hermione shuddered. She turned her face to her left, where he was leaning so close to her, their faces almost touching.

"You need to back off, Riddle," she demanded fiercely. "This is a very delicate procedure-"

"Yes," he breathed. "It is."

Gripping the plant firmly in her hands, she spun to face him. He stepped back due to the swiftness of the motion, but held her gaze intensely in his own. Hermione momentarily closed her eyes, but when she opened them she was sure her mind was clear.

"You don't frighten me, Riddle," she said raising her chin and shaking her bushy hair. "Seeing as I've faced Grindelwald, you don't really measure up-"

"Lie," Riddle said quickly. It was a statement, not an accusation. "You are not a very good Occlumens. Then again, most Gryffindors would not be. Too much emotional baggage."

Hermione had not been aware that she had been gripping her wand with her right hand, while the fluxweed was still tightly gripped in her left. Riddle, however, caught the gesture. Checking to see everyone was distracted in the front of the room, he drew his own.

Hermione tensed. She too glanced at the front of the room and raised her wand. But Slytherins have never been known for their chivalry and Riddle took the split-second her eyes were turned away to raise his own wand and whisper,

"_Legilimens_!"

As Hermione's eyes turned back to meet Riddle's, the spell hit her and an onslaught of thoughts and memories came pouring into her mind…

_She was three-years-old and sick with the flu. It was dangerous for someone so young to be so sick and her mother was gently dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth that somehow kept remoistening itself without the help of a sink…_

_She was seven and sitting with her father at his work, watching a plump lady with crooked teeth get a filling…_

_She was eleven and jumping around her room in excitement as her parents spoke to a tall woman with black hair, which was pulled into a tight bun, in the living room…_

_She was sixteen and watching Ron kiss Lavender…_

"_Oppugno_!"

Hermione was on the floor, shaking badly. She wondered how on earth she could have landed there and lifted herself up. The sight that met her eyes made her want to laugh and shout at the same time. Tom Riddle was being attacked by a small fluxweed. It was a few moments before she realized that she had cast the attacking-charm on it to defend herself from his Legilimency. Riddle was doing his best to swat away the tiny branches, but they were putting up a good fight, poking and stabbing whatever they could reach of him. He finally resorted to flicking his wand at the plant, causing it to freeze and fall, shattering the pot as it hit the ground.

By now the entire class's attention was on the pair of them. Tom and Hermione both looked up in horror to see a white-faced, wide-eyed, and very furious Professor Quirke staring at them.

Hermione turned the deepest shade of crimson. She threw Riddle a glance and saw he looked like he was trying to decide whether he should compose himself and begin polite apologies or hit the nearest person. Hermione, realizing that that was she, took a few steps to her right.

"What on earth? What do you think you were doing?" came the shrill voice of the angry Professor.

Hermione, not used to being the one in trouble with teachers, only opened and closed her mouth repeatedly. What was she suppose to say? _Oh, sorry, ma'am, but Riddle and I are having a battle of intellect and skill at the back of your classroom. But it's ok because he's the most evil wizard to ever cross Hogwarts?_

Riddle didn't look like he was having any better luck. It was obvious to Hermione that he was so used to being admired by the staff that he didn't even know how to deal with scolding.

But as Professor Quirke's eyes scanned the scene and fell on the drawn wands and broken fluxweed, she seemed to surmise at least the damage that had been done. She walked over to the fallen plant and picked it up gingerly in both hands, observing it with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. The entire class was holding its breath.

"Detention. A week's," she finally said quietly, "And forty points from each of your houses. I have never seen such stupidity from two students before. And two students with such potential. Be happy the punishment is not more severe."

Hermione had never felt more embarrassed. She composed herself by reminding herself of all the worse things that had happened to her and that a week's worth of detention paled in comparison. She stole another glance at Riddle. His expression was unreadable but he certainly seemed far less than collected. It was with a stab of dread that Hermione realized that a week's worth of detention with the very person she so desperately needed to avoid at this moment could very well be considered one of the worst things that has happened to her…


	6. Lies part two

Part 2

edited for accuracy. thanks ivory. :)

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Six: _**Lies part two**_

_I watched you for so long_

_You became part of my heart_

_And the thought you will one day_

_Leave me_

_Became unbearable._

_But that one day_

_I suddenly realized you had left me_

_Ages ago._

_The idea didn't come as a shock_

_More than a pain and unpleasant truth_

_That I had been expecting_

_And that connection we shared_

_Was gone. We had drifted._

_And all I had left_

_Were the words of my blessed Mother_

_Those wise words,_

_Let it be_

Hermione was lucky enough over the next week. They were to serve their detentions separately. Riddle was scrubbing in the trophy room and Hermione was helping Slughorn sort through his inventory. And since none of the teachers believed Hermione needed Riddle's help in classes any more, Hermione had taken to sitting as far from him as possible. She assumed his fear at getting in trouble again had prevented him from confronting her.

But as many a witch and wizard have found in history, fate can be cruel. The last day of their detentions they were both to return to the scene of the crime.

Hermione made her way across the grounds towards the greenhouses as evening began to fall. She saw Riddle walking ahead of her and took her time to reach the large, glass houses. Hermione entered shortly after he had, pointedly looking anywhere but at him. Her pulse had already begun to speed up… something she had not had to deal with for a week.

"The two of you will be replanting the Daisies," Professor Quirke informed them. "And you will be sure not to damage a single one," she added in a warning tone. "Professor Slughorn needs these for teaching Shrinking potion." She gestured them over to the row of white flowers along the greenhouse wall. Hermione and Riddle both nodded and moved toward the plants.

"I will be returning to the school to help Professor Slughorn with the rest of his inventory." She gave them both a piercing stare. "If I find in the morning that anything has been damaged or uprooted… you will be sure to pack your bags."

Hermione nodded fervently and Riddle looked like he was going to be sick.

Professor Quirke left them and the two began the slow process of repotting a few dozen little Daisies. They worked in stoney silence for a good portion of an hour until Hermione stole another glance at Riddle and let out an involuntary giggle.

"What," he asked; setting a daisy into a new pot with more vigor that was necessary. "may I ask is so funny?"

Hermione shook her head.

"N- nothing," she stammered and tried to focus on her own set of daisies. She was unsuccessful, however, in repressing another giggle.

Riddle set down the pot he was working on then and turned to her, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Oh, if you must know," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing a light pink color. "It was your face."

"My face," he said dully. "And what about my face is so amusing to you?" His voice sounding annoyed.

"It was more your expression," Hermione explained, still not daring to turn and face him. "When Quirke yelled at you the first time."

"I didn't find anything funny about that," he growled.

"That's just it!" she said, finally turning to look at him. She noticed he didn't seem as threatening when his face was filled with curiosity. "You've probably never been in trouble in your entire life! You looked like you were going to implode!" And she covered her mouth and turned back to her flowers to resist the urge to laugh again. Now she knew why Harry and Ron teased her so often.

"You didn't seem any different. I bet you were a right little teacher's pet back at Durmstrang."

Hermione considered this for a moment.

"You're right. I was," she replied proudly and planted her last daisy.

Just as Riddle opened his mouth to reply a long strand of lightning struck the top of the greenhouse, followed milliseconds later by a deafening roar of thunder. Riddle jumped.

Hermione looked to the top of the greenhouse and then back at Riddle, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You're not afraid of a little thunderstorm are you?" she asked smoothly, positively delighted in the prospect that Lord Voldemort would be afraid of lightning.

"No," he snapped. "It just struck so suddenly it surprised me." He hastily potted his last plant. Another strand struck the earth and he flinched again.

"Did that one surprise you as well?" Hermione asked coolly. Riddle glared at her, looking ready to kill. They stared at each other for a few moments and Hermione remembered how capable of murder he truly was and remembered with a thrill of terror that he had already killed thus far in his life.

It began to rain. Riddle made to step closer to her but Hermione moved toward the greenhouse door.

"We should get out of here before the rain hits harder," she warned. Riddle grinned.

"What?" she asked pausing at the door.

"Your face," he replied simply. Hermione felt rooted to the spot. Another shard of lighting flashed across the sky with a roll of thunder. Riddle did not flinch this time, but Hermione did. Riddle laughed. Hermione scowled at him.

"Oh, come on," she said and reached for his arm. He almost flinched like he had before when the second strand of lightning hit, but allowed himself to be pulled by her to the greenhouse doors. "If we just move along the right side of the greenhouses we could probably beat the worst of the storm. The castle isn't very far."

They made their way into the rain, which was gaining strength at each passing moment. Hermione made to go right, but as she moved she felt his hand tug her back. She turned around to look at what the problem was. "It's this way-" she said over the noisy rain, gesturing to the right. He shook his head and pulled her arm, quickly moving left. She wanted to shout at him but the rain was growing to a deafening volume.

They ran through the rain. The falling drops seemed to breath life into Hermione as she ran and she felt inexplicably excited. She realized with a shock of guilt that she hadn't felt this elated since her kiss with Ron. Tom was simply tugging on her sleeves, pulling her along with him away from the castle.

"Where are we going?" Hermione shouted. She was unpleasantly reminded of the cave Harry and Kreacher had told her vaguely about. Riddle ignored her and continued to pull her along. With a rush of nerve Hermione pulled her arm away. If she was going to be stuck in his little game she at least was not going to be trapped in his grasp.

She dashed ahead of him hoping she may be able to just dash back to the castle but she heard his footsteps quickening to catch up with her. Thunder roared above their heads as they sprinted along. Hermione could see the Quidditch pitch just ahead and dashed toward the Gryffindor changing rooms.

"Oh, I don't think so," she heard Tom's voice nag and she felt him grab her arm again and direct her toward the Slytherin changing rooms instead. She hurried behind him, watching his dark silhouette in the rain, allowing herself to be dragged into enemy grounds with that same inexplicable excitement still present.

Tom flicked his wand casually, unlocking the doors, and they entered, sheltered from the rain and lightning above them. With another flick of his wand the room's candles were lit.

"You look like a drowned rat," he said eyeing Hermione's bushy, soggy hair, as they both stood, catching their breaths. Hermione's momentary sense of exhiliration vanished. An air of apprehension was slowly seeping into the room and she was beginning to miss the falsely polite and deceiving Tom over this blunt one.

"You look like a drowned blast-ended skrewt," she replied haughtily, saying the first animal that came to her mind and sat down on one of the benches.

"A what?" he asked staring at her curiously.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, as she braided her hair. Blast-ended skrewts were not to be crossbred until her time, though even then most wizards hadn't heard of them.

Tom's look of curiosity hardened.

"I can tell when you're lying, you know. I can always tell."

Hermione shivered at these disturbingly familiar words. She could see even in the pale candlelight that his eyes had grown darker. She stared into them, not daring to speak another word.

He turned from her, almost angrily and began pacing the green and silver bedecked changing room.

"You lied to me when we met," he said with a would-be-casual voice, not looking at her but continuing to pace the room. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. "You are not sorry that I am an orphan, you have not eluded Grindelwald, and you are far too familiar with this school than any foreign student should be." He turned to her suddenly, his eyes boring into hers.

Hermione mentally kicked herself. How could she have been stupid enough to get herself trapped in a room with Lord Voldemort?

"And," he said in his most dangerous voice, moving closer to her as though he were aware she wanted to escape. "And you seem to understand far too much about me."

Hermione stood.

"Don't be stupid," she said in a voice higher than usual. "How could I possibly have fooled the Headmaster?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as shaky to him as it did to her. She had to move toward the door. She would take the storm over an angry Riddle any day. But as she motioned to move toward the door, Riddle stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. Hermione understood... this was why he had pulled her along in the rain. He had wanted to corner and terrify her.

"Tom?" Now Hermione's voice came in a quiet whisper. "What are you doing?"

And he was succeeding.

He ignored her and continued to step closer to her, never breaking eye contact. He had no idea what possessed this girl but she was frustrating him. He would have to stop that. Nothing that frustrated Lord Voldemort could last very long. He closed the space between their bodies, pleased that her courage had caused her to remain in place instead of taking steps away from him. But he didn't like her back facing the open like that… too easy for her to escape. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do to her, but he was sure he would get to the bottom of the effect she had on him.

She flinched as he placed his hands on her hips. It was the most intimate act he had done as long as she'd known him. He was pushing her backwards, cornering her into a wall. Hermione's brain whirred, telling her to escape, but that pulsing rhythm beat in pleasure at his contact. She allowed herself to be moved until he had finally succeeded in forcing her against the changing room wall. Hermione had not been aware that she was holding her breath until she let out a gasp. A chill had shot through her body as he had moved his hands up from her hips to her waist. She grabbed his forearms, which were still covered in his wet school robes.

"Riddle, stop," she demanded. Her brain had resumed control. He had to move away from her or she would be in serious danger. He could not discover how extreme his effect was on her… he could not discover the pulse that throbbed within her every time he drew near. She did not know why but he could not find it.

Tom froze, not because of her command but because he had discovered what he was looking for… at least he thought he had. As his hands rested on either side of her rib cage, he felt it… a steady thumping against his hands. He realized with a thrill that the pulsing seemed to move in time with his own heartbeat. His breathing was as irregular and heavy as hers was now as his hands gripped her more tightly, forgetting to stay in control. He stared at her, his eyes raking over her body. He wondered how the pulse would feel if their skin were to make contact.

Hermione was fighting tears now. He had found it. She knew when his eyes had flickered red… and it appeared he understood the pulsing beat better than she did. She was losing strength as the pounding in her chest grew stronger with his excitement, and his hands were the only things keeping her standing against that wall. What was going on? What did he know that she did not?

"Tom, please," she said, wanting answers more than for him to stop touching her.

Tom grinned as he lowered his face to the pulse in her neck, pressing his lips softly over the skin. He enjoyed the jolt of energy that coursed through her, the shuddering gasp she let out, and the sudden sharp beat he felt in his hands as though her body wanted nothing more than for him to remain close.

Hermione felt as though her skin were on fire. Her brain had successfully been shut off and her body had taken over. How could she feel like this with only the touch of his lips on her neck? She had never felt like this with Victor or even Ron. She felt his lips kiss her neck and pull away. She let out a groan of frustration and heard him chuckle.

"I knew you were an exciting person," he said as his fingers caressed her waist and ribs, still exploring that pulsating rhythm.


	7. Discoveries

Thanks maripas, blindfaithoperadiva, amy, ivory, mary c, caity (lawls), nerys, stargazer starluver (I love stars too!), and sexyknickers (what a suggestive name) for commenting!

Nerys: still glad you approve! And my sleeves are full of stuffs! Haha. But thanks for pointing that out. I don't think you'll be disappointed with this chapter. And thanks for the hot comment! I was going for that. Teehee

Ivory: I went back and reread chappie 6 and found I completely agreed with you. It has been edited. I think you'll like it better now. But he still jumps at the first lightning strike. While I was writing it I kept picturing him as a 7 year old huddled alone in his bed while a thunderstorm raged outside.

Amy: thanks for the exuberant comment! XD And I agree. Tom Riddle is a foine boy.

Here's another SHOUT OUT for one of my favorite fanartist, makani, on deviantart. http://makani. link! I am sure you will find a very smexxy pic of Tom on the fourth page.

Chappie 8 will be up sometime before 1 am tonight. I have a 2,000 word minimum rule.

Disclaimer: If JK Rowling were American would Harry Potter be a gangstah?

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Seven: _**Discoveries**_

_Silence._

_Like a heavy Waterfall_

_crushing the rocks beneath._

_So strong, but weak under the torrent of _

_beating Water._

_Once jagged and course_

_now become smooth and sleek-_

_polished to Perfection,_

_But silent._

_Beauty brags for Itself._

_Hush hush now, darling._

Tom Riddle sat in the Slytherin common room, before the fire. The room was empty, everyone having gone down to dinner. This wasn't the first time Tom had skipped dinner and it certainly wouldn't be the last… there was something about sitting among the other students, chattering away stupidly and stuffing their faces full of food, which disgusted him. It was quite easy to give the excuse that he was busy working in the library or studying hard for his next exam. He liked to think he inspired enough respect and fear into his peers that they would not question the matter further.

And there was something just so… mortal… so human about meal times. The fact that he had to depend so fully on food to remain alive disturbed him. He should not have to rely on anything for life… he should live because he has earned the right to do so. His strength, his intellect, and his cunning can and will earn him the ability to remain alive forever.

Tom played with the ring on his finger, rubbing the stone gently as he gazed into the fire. The ring contained the same pulsating rhythm as the girl… he should have discovered the truth much sooner than he had. He felt foolish. It was no wonder she could not stay together when he drew too close to her, or that he felt exhilarated when he moved near her. She obviously carried a piece of him within her… theoretically. The idea was just too absurd. He knew where all of his Horcruxes were. The diary… he had checked on it the minute he had returned to his room. The ring was placed snuggly on his finger. It was impossible that anyone had tampered with it. Tom closed his eyes as sweeping insight set in. The girl had been staring at his ring… she had practically been mesmerized by it the day they had met. True he had initially been suspicious about her interest in something so important to him but he had assumed that she had only thought it to be a handsome ring… many girls thought so. Lucretia Black had repeatedly asked him if she could wear it during their courtship last year. Naturally he had refused, though he had amused himself in thinking what sorts of things the ring would have done to her if he had given in…

So how, _how_ could Artemis Morgen have _two_ heartbeats, one of which beat in time with his own and with his Horcrux's. There was a simple and not so simple explanation. He had only created two Horcruxes. There was no way there could be another one within this girl, a girl who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Tom's finger ceased its path along his ring. She was a liar. He knew that much. There were still mysteries to crack about her… like where she had really come from. Unfortunately she was better at Occlumency that he had admitted. But he was a better Legilimens than she was an Occlumens, but if she was ready for him next time… She had held her own fairly well the first time, he reminded himself, thinking of the attacking fluxweed… and he hadn't been pleased to land in detention, either. He had never gotten detention in his entire Hogwarts career and now every teacher knew that he had dueled with another student in the back of Herbology… and it was the poor, suffering, brilliant refugee no less! But she was none of that. Tom saw through it. But how could he expect the Professors to see through her façade when sweet Artemis had _Dumbledore_ at her side.

Hot flames of anger licked Tom's insides. Dumbledore was the only one who didn't trust him.

_So…_ he thought, resuming the stroke of his ring, _So, Dumbledore doesn't trust me and neither does Artemis. And I don't trust Artemis but Dumbledore, of course, does._

And it was that old dodger's uncanny ability to know things that the majority of others didn't.

But there was no way Dumbledore would suddenly decided Tom Riddle was a sweet boy and confide Artemis's deepest secrets in him. So Riddle would have to go straight to the source of his troubles. The task would prove more difficult than he had hoped. The only time they saw each other was during classes and she had kept to herself and her fellow Gryffindors since their run-in in Herbology. And after what had happened last night… Tom allowed a smirk to play across his lips. He had enjoyed their encounter perhaps a little too much. He had to control himself better than he had. He had to remain the one in command of the situation. But it truly wasn't hard to exert power over her once they were in contact. They way she had fallen apart when he had kissed her neck….

A chill ran up Tom's spine and he frowned. She affected him as well… denying it would only make him vulnerable to her. Nevertheless, he had to find a way to confront her on her own… perhaps weaken her and then have another go at Legilimency. But when was Artemis Morgen ever on her own? The other Gryffindors had taken to her well enough and she usually had no trouble surrounding herself with one or two of them outside of class.

And then the thought dawned on him. Where did Artemis station herself so often that even a loyal pack of Gryffindors wouldn't stick around for hours on end? The very place Tom had run into her over the past few weeks, marvelously alone. But then she had eluded him, escaping the library before Tom had settled himself in.

Tom battled with himself for a moment. He didn't really want to get his Death Eaters involved… doing so may either cause one of them to hurt her (and after his recent discovery that was out of the question) or suspect that she meant more to him than what he would like to let on. None of his Death Eaters knew about his Horcruxes and he did not believe he would ever tell them… not explicitly anyway…

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"Nott," Tom said, addressing the tall, dark haired man to the right of the circle. It was after dinner and the rest of the student body were all snug in their respective common rooms. The Death Eaters had been meeting once a week in the Head Boy's room since the beginning of term. Naturally that Tom was approaching the end of his schooling he would have to begin his plans for after he graduated. And he'd be damned if he landed some cheap job at the Ministry as some gopher boy like Slughorn kept insisting. True that was the path he should take if he wanted to become Minister of Magic one day… but he could not bring himself to fall into the path of mediocrity. He would gain power by other means…

"I have an assignment for you and for Mulciber," he said as he paced the inside of the small circle made up of a half dozen boys.

The two young men stirred and straightened, excited and proud that their leader would entrust them with a mission.

"The girl, Artemis Morgen," he began. The half dozen boys exchanged glances as though they knew this topic had been bound to come up eventually.

"_The girl_," Tom continued more fiercely, noticing the motion of his followers. "Has as much potential as I originally thought. It is unfortunate, however, that she is surrounded by the naivety of Gryffindors. I would like the pair of you to watch her. Find a weakness and a way you could perhaps lure her to our side. But do not frighten her," he added with a knowing smirk.

The two boys mirrored his grin and nodded.

"Lord Voldemort, we will not disappoint you," Nott said as Mulciber nodded.

"Be sure that you do not," Tom said coolly and the circle exchanged another set of glances, though these were filled with more anxiety than the last.

"She could prove a beneficial ally, like many of you," he said, continuing to pace around the circle. "Or at least I hope that when each of you pledged your loyalty to me you did not expect this to be simply a school boys club."

No one dared to look at each other. The atmosphere in the room had taken a chilling drop. Tom heightened his senses as he passed each one of them in turn, trying to sense disloyalty… he would have to master Legilimency more fully now that the group of them had come of age. Now that they have more control and full rights to use magic outside of Hogwarts they would be much harder to control. But as he moved about them he sensed their fear. They wouldn't dare to cross him.

"Yes, you all remain loyal to me, though you still do not fully understand what powers and glories lay ahead for us… but you will. Go. It is late and I don't want my Death Eaters getting caught by pesky prefects."

The young men parted and exited, some nodding to Tom and others bowing respectfully. Tom watched them go and settled into the armchair by the window. Unlike the Slytherin common room, the Head Boy's room was above ground. He had certainly chosen a good group to become his most faithful. They feared and respected him equally. Now was not the time to expand his Death Eaters… not yet… not until he graduated. Then perhaps… if he were allowed… he would be able to find more followers within these walls. But Artemis could not wait. He would have to act on her soon or risk losing a part of himself.

Tom rose from his armchair and made his way to his private bath hoping a shower would help clear his mind and make his path clearer.

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Hermione sighed as the stream of water washed her. She still felt unclean after what had happened the night before, and all he had done was kiss her neck. Hermione shivered even though the water was hot. She couldn't believe she had been so dense all this time. It was amazing what denial could do to a person so desperate to deny any mistakes. Or perhaps that was part of the Horcruxes spell… that she would be so oblivious to the fact that she had become connected with it until its owner became aware.

And just _how_ connected was she with it? Had she herself become a Horcrux or was she only carrying a message to the creator of the Horcrux that it's vessel had been destroyed? Hermione feared the worst. She knew by now that it was possible for humans to act as Horcruxes after Harry had explained to her what he had seen in the pensive. Her heart ached to speak with Harry… to ask his advice and to verify whether or not she had become a Horcrux. She only knew that Harry had been able to serve as a channel to Lord Voldemort's emotions and thoughts. She certainly could understand that now… whenever Riddle came too near and particularly when he was excited she felt the pulse go crazy. Even now as she thought of it her heart was quickening its pace. She closed her eyes and allowed the water to finished rinsing her hair.

She knew what this meant… another trip to the library. Those books she had taken from Dumbledore's office were sure to still be in the library during this time. That was, after all, where Voldemort had learned of them in the first place.

Hermione wondered with a pang of fear, as she dried off and dressed, whether she would have to sacrifice herself like Harry had. Could she? Did she have the strength to place herself in front of death's way? She had never admired the Boy-Who-Lived more than she did now. But perhaps she could discover a way to tear Voldemort's soul out of her body… to place it within something else and them promptly destroy it. The process sounded painful but if it was possible… if she could find a way to live… her mind turned to Ron and her brown eyes filled with tears. She wasn't the only one who wanted her to remain alive. How could she abandon Ron like that?

_But you already have…_ that annoyingly wise voice in the back of her mind reminded her. _You abandoned him the moment you drank from that cup._

She groaned and exited the bathroom. Riddle was just as clever as she had thought and more so than he even knew. He was going to be impossible to avoid. If she could only prevent him from knowing just exactly how she had come to contain a piece of his soul… Of course, he already knew she did. She could at least be rest assured he would not kill her… yet. He would be too interested in how she had obtained it and too protective of the precious piece of his soul.

As Hermione climbed into her bed she began to clear her mind. Her dreams were in just as much danger now as Harry's had been. She felt a final pang of guilt before her thoughts were fully emptied and she was forced to practice what she had preached.


	8. Wrath

Reviews make me pleased!

Sorry about those pesky typos in the last chapter… I posted before editing as I had to go to work and I wanted to get the 7th chappie up. Forgive me for the typos that lay in this one…. Mr. Sam is talking to me online right now and distracting me from double editing. XD

As for my rapidity in posting… school starts next week so I'll be posting slower. Sorry! School comes first. But I am obsessed with writing this fic as I've realized. God I love writing and doing this is reminding me how much I do.

Thanks for commenting annikacan, maripas, caity, vanikoro, and ana.

Caity: I can't believe you said that! Well, the fic is rated M… apologies for not earning the M rating yet. I'm afraid I may be a bit shy. **blushes**

Vanikoro: J'adore writing Tom. You'll see that in this chapter. He's the most fun character I've ever written! I'm not evil I swear! I'm a total Gryffie!

Ana: that is the question now isn't it? hmmm :)

Disclaimer: How much Potter could a Rowling Rowling Potter if a Potter Rowling Rowling Potter Pottered?

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Eight: _**Wrath**_

_I may just be taking things too seriously_

_But I am rather cold_

_I seem to be all skin_

_And no bone_

_I have not been able to detect my soul_

_For quite some time_

_And I am more powerful _

_Than they know_

_I am rather cold_

_I am rather desperate_

_And I am dangerous _

_I am angry_

_**I am trapped in this monotonous hell**_

_I am strength and skill_

_Stuck in a body of flesh_

_Of fat and blood_

_A wasted mind_

_I have too much fat on the brain_

_I think I'll rip it off_

_And find the power and strength_

_I am no longer strength and harmony_

_But strength and rage_

_I am angry_

_You didn't notice how I changed before your eyes_

_As you were distracted by your trivial pursuits_

_And philosophies_

_You fool_

_Yet my transformation was internal_

_Hidden from the outside world_

_But now as I melt before your eyes_

_My change will be physical_

_And you will see I am strength and power_

_I am wrath_

_And I feel my teeth tearing_

_I am wrath_

Transfiguration had quickly become Hermione's favorite class. She had never actually been taught by Dumbledore before and now she saw first hand why he was considered one of the greatest wizards of all time. He proved more skillful at his subject that even McGonagal had been. Hermione excelled in his class, which goes to show that when a student adores their teacher they are more apt to learn. It also didn't hurt that Hermione was thrilled to have the familiar figure back in her life.

It was two days after Tom had cornered Hermione in the Slytherin changing rooms. Thankfully the following day had been a Sunday, meaning no classes and no reason for Hermione to go within ninety feet of Tom Riddle. But Mondays meant back to class and that meant Hermione was going to come face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

Luckily the first class of the day was with the only person Lord Voldemort had ever feared. Today they were working on human transfiguration. Their goal was to either make their hair grow or shrink, a step up from simply changing the color.

"Concentrate, Avery," Dumbledore said as he passed a short Slytherin boy, who was waving his wand at his head absentmindedly. "We do not want a recreation of last weeks lesson…" He was referring to Avery's miscalculated wand gesture that had caused Lucretia Black's hair to catch fire. Hermione had suspected that the gesture had not been too miscalculated and she assumed so had Dumbledore.

Hermione only needed to tap the ends of her hair and it shrank to her shoulders, giving her looser curls instead of her usual, unmanageable bush.

"You should really leave your hair like that," she heard a low voice say from directly behind her. Hermione frowned and turned around in her seat. Riddle had moved to the desk behind her when she hadn't been paying attention.

"You should avoid wearing yours like that," she snapped, eyeing his dark hair, which had lengthened to his shoulders.

To Hermione's surprise, he simply smiled and waved his wand at his own hair, causing it to return to its customary length.

"Better?" he asked her politely. Hermione did not respond, but only eyed him suspiciously. What had she been expecting from Riddle really? Perhaps a more arrogant air, which he was certainly putting up, but to regress to his civil façade? Unless…

Hermione reluctantly turned away from him, not really trusting having someone so dangerous to her back. ...Unless he was up to something, which she could be sure he was.

"Very good, Miss Morgen," Dumbledore said, drawing closer to her and Riddle. "I see you have mastered yet another spell. It is very useful when one wants to give himself a trim, though I daresay I have not used it in quite awhile," he said stroking his long auburn beard. Hermione beamed as she waved her wand, lengthening her hair again. Riddle scowled.

"Mr. Riddle let's see you perform the spell," Dumbledore said turning to Riddle, who had promptly removed the scowl from his face.

"Yes, sir," Riddle said and waved his wand a second time at his head. He never broke eye contact with the tall Professor as his hair began to lengthen rapidly, passing his chin, passing his shoulders, and finally coming to rest at his waist. His hair was now quite as long as Dumbledore's.

"Another well done performance, Tom," Dumbledore said, though he didn't look as amused as he had when complimenting Hermione.

"Thank you, Professor," and Riddle did not look as courteous as he had when complimenting Hermione either.

Dumbledore smiled at the two of them and moved along the row of desks to help a Hufflepuff girl who was having trouble making her hair stop shrinking.

Hermione heard a chuckle on her left and turned to see Avery and Mulciber stifling laughter as Nott discreetly waved his wand under his desk in the Hufflepuff's direction. Hermione looked back at the Hufflepuff who was nearly in tears as she rubbed her balding head, and remembered her saying she was a muggle-born.

Hot fury shot through Hermione as she watched the poor girl and she rounded on the Slytherins she knew to be Voldemort's first Death Eaters.

"Cut that out! She hasn't done anything to you!" she said fiercely.

The Death Eaters looked in her direction with mingled surprise and bemusement on their faces.

"Of course she hasn't done anything to us," Nott said, raising his eyebrows at her and continuing to twirl his wand at the Hufflepuff. "She just has to be a foul, little mudblood."

Hermione did not know how it happened… it was usually Harry who did the reckless and stupid thing… perhaps it was because Harry was not here to intervene that Hermione had taken matters into her own hands. She was on her feet and across the room, her wand pointed at Nott's face.

"Stop, now," she said dangerously, a familiar passion burning inside of her. And Nott's wand was out from under the desk and pointed at Hermione in defense. Hermione felt blood thundering through her brain as she readied herself to blast this bastard out of his desk. Just when she was sure they were going to duel, two voices rang across the room.

"Nott!"

It was Riddle's and Dumbledore's voices cutting through the tense, classroom air. Hermione and Nott froze, and Hermione turned to see Dumbledore approaching them and Riddle on his feet, wand still clenched in his hand. Riddle had apparently taken responsibility of his Death Eater and had stood to order him to stop, forgetting that Dumbledore, being the Professor, would have been the one to handle the situation. His eyes darted between Nott and Hermione and Dumbledore, the latter who he was eyeing with intense dislike.

Dumbledore appeared not to have even noticed Riddle's voice mix with his own. He was to them in a few quick steps.

"What has happened?" he demanded of them, staring at them with his usual piercing gaze.

Hermione was breathing heavily. She opened her mouth to accuse Nott of his crime when she heard Nott speak first.

"It was my fault, Professor," he spoke quickly. Hermione, stunned by this display of chivalry from a Death Eater no less, turned her head to look at Nott. He looked fearful to say the least. Hermione was puzzled. Dumbledore did not inspire this much fear in his students and she did not think that Nott respected him enough to tell him the truth.

"I was messing with Angela's hair. I'm sorry."

Dumbledore stared at him down his crooked nose, with an unreadable expression as though deciding how to take this confession.

"I'm afraid bullying another student intentionally earns you a week's detention, Mr. Nott," said Dumbledore gravely. Nott looked irritated but gave a curt nod. "Very well, then," Dumbledore finished. "And five points to Gryffindor for pure nerve and nobility," he added, nodding at Hermione, and moved away.

Hermione watched Dumbledore move back to Angela who had been restoring the natural length of her sandy hair. She saw him give a sharp glance to his left as he moved and followed his gaze. Riddle was still sitting at the desk behind Hermione's, meeting Nott's eyes with an indecipherable but tense expression on his face. Hermione threw Nott a nervous glance before moving away from him and back to her own desk. As she sat she stole another glance at the Death Eaters across the room. They had all been eyeing her suspiciously before their eyes cast a worried glance behind her and looked away.

Hermione kept her eyes foreword, questions whizzing around her brain. Surely Riddle was only being protective of her because he knew that she held a piece of her soul? What was he going to do to Nott now? As Hermione tried to find logical answers to these questions she felt something moving across her head. She gasped and placed her hand to her scalp and realized it was her hair. It was shortening by itself.

"I thought," she heard Riddle quietly growl from behind her, "that I told you I liked your hair this way."

Chills ran up Hermione's neck and she turned to face him once more, her hand still in her now shoulder length hair. He was staring at her with a gaze to match the intensity of the one he had given her back in the Slytherin changing rooms. She could not find words as she stared at him, her lips slightly parted in surprise.

As class ended Hermione gathered her books slower than usual to watch Riddle sweep out of the classroom. She had put two and two together. Hermione shuddered and walked out of the classroom with a heavier load on her shoulders than she had walked in with. She did not take it as a good sign, after all, that the Dark Lord had become overly possessive of her.

----------------------------------------

"I thought you were not going to disappoint me, Nott."

"My Lord, I did nothing to the girl. I only raised my wand in defense-"

"Wrong. You do not raise your wand to her for any reason. If she wants to blast your pathetic ass out of the window she may do so. Is that clear?"

They were back in the Head Boy's room, a muffling charm placed around the walls. All members of the Death Eaters were present, standing in their respective places in the circle. Tom and Nott were standing in the center facing each other. Nott looked nonplussed.

"But, Lord Voldemort, she is just a Gryffindor. She doesn't even value her blood! She was defending the filthy mudblood as though she were one herself!"

Tom looked livid. His Artemis, a mudblood? The carrier of a piece of _his_ soul have less than pure blood?

Nott seemed to notice the peak in his Lord's anger and took a step back.

"I only, meant, my Lord," Nott hurried to save face, "that she seems to not care about her blood at all. Even the greatest blood-traitors show some pride in the purity of their blood."

Tom seemed to be holding control over his anger for the time being to consider what Nott had said. The others in the room did not move or speak as they watched their leader think. He had to admit that his Death Eater had a point. He remembered the day they had met she had not seemed thrilled to tell him she was a pureblood. He had suspected some treachery in her words. This was yet another mystery the girl possessed that he needed to get to the bottom of and better sooner rather than later. Tom gave Nott a sharp nod and the latter stepped back into his place in the circle.

"Nonetheless, you are off the mission. I need people who Morgen does not despise to recruit her to our side, and someone who has not gotten themselves detention for a week," he said coldly. "And you have, unfortunately, failed in that."

Nott looked embarrassed and angry.

"You landed yourself in detention for a week if you can't remember that!" he shouted.

If it were possible the room grew even more still in a deadly hush. Nott seemed to realize what he had done and shrank back into the shadow of the larger boy standing next to him. The boy stepped away as though Nott carried an infectious disease.

"My Lord," Nott breathed. "My Lord, I didn't mean that. I am sorry-"

Tom had been approaching him as he stuttered his excuse. So one of his Death Eaters was beginning to think himself his equal? He was beginning to think he could refute what his leader said and to talk back to him? Tom was glad the others were present, that way he could make an example out of this one. Voldemort raised his wand.

"My Lord, please!"

"_Crucio_!"

A couple of the other boys flinched as Nott's screams pierced the room. Voldemort stood in dead resolution, his wand arm steady as Nott writhed on the floor, screaming incoherently. Voldemort held Nott in his excruciating pain for a few minutes longer before finally relinquishing him. The boy laid on the floor, twitching and sobbing as Voldemort stood over him, his face emotionless and hard.

"What have we learned, Nott?" he asked in a quiet voice, but which carried around the room. Nott continued to sob.

"Answer me or you will feel that again," Voldemort warned. "Who is in control here?"

"You, My Lord! You are!" Nott whimpered between his sobs.

"And who holds the power over the Chamber of Secrets? Who is the heir of Slytherin?" Voldemort demanded.

"You, My Lord," Nott sniveled.

"Precisely," Voldemort said sneeringly, looking upon Nott's huddled form with disgust. He turned away from him, back to the rest of the group. They shrank back in his movement as though fearful they were about to be given the same punishment as Nott.

"Is there anyone here who has not been a complete fool and lost the trust of Artemis Morgen?" he asked the small group callously. "Dolohov, Rosier, you will now take charge of the mission. Do not disappoint me like others have before you." Nott let out a moan from behind him.

The two young men nodded fervently at this order, eager to show their Lord that they were in total compliance with his orders.

The six Death Eaters were dismissed, every one of them bowing to him before they left this time… Nott kissed the hem of his robes.

Tom raised his eyebrows at Nott's retreating back as he was the last Death Eater to leave. That little dose of punishment had worked better than he had expected. His followers were now beginning to revere him… and they didn't even know the worst of what he has done.

He had not told them about his trip to Little Hangleton. They did not know he had killed his father and grandparents. He would tell them that in due time though he would never reveal what he had done afterwards. It was too much of a risk to let any of his Death Eaters know about the Horcruxes… Nott had proven that. And now he knew he would have to keep a closer watch on all of them.

Tom growled as he sank into his armchair, growing steadily aware of how much trouble Artemis was truly causing him.


	9. I've Got A Lovely Bunch Of Horcruxes

This is my longest chapter evah!

Thanks Fireflyofhell, maripas, mr.sam, annikacan, Michaela, nerys, ana, and mary c for reviewing!

ana: i haven't decided yet whether they'll all be set in the past. heh. lol

Maripas: I think you'll be pleased with the length of this chapter….

Nerys: it was one of my goals for one of my reviews to quote a piece of what I wrote in their review. yay goal met! And if you like hot you'll like this next chapter. and yeah I wrote that poem a couple months ago. I just thought it fit along with the chapter quite well.

Mr.Sam: Nerys partially owes you for getting her hot chapter. winks

Disclaimer: I'm writing JK Rowling a letter!

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Nine: _**I've Got A Lovely Bunch of Horcruxes… Deedledee**_

_Pitted against the fires of hell_

_I stand alone_

_Unless I were to give myself_

_Blindly. Then I would stand_

_Strong. But not with my own strength_

_Since weakness is a man's best friend_

_Strength is God's alone._

"Would she be here this late?"

"Lord Voldemort said she spends most of her free time here."

"Do we really need to call him that when he's not around?"

"When can you ever be sure that he's not around?"

Dolohov and Rosier entered the school library late in the evening, the day after Nott had received his punishment. It was expected by Voldemort that his Death Eaters never refer to him as Tom Riddle. They had complied with his request and dared not address him as anything but to his face. In the past they had felt more comfortable calling him by his birth name when he was not around, but after the events of their fifth year, the rumors of what he had done before his sixth year, and now finally with the increase of his need for control in his seventh year… they did not think it wise to ever utter the name "Tom Riddle" again.

Rosier scowled at Dolohov's comment and began checking the isles for any sign of late-night occupants. The librarian, Madam Goshawk, was no were to be seen. Having much sympathy for the hard at work fifth and seventh years, she usually took to leaving the last occupant of the library to close up, trusting that the Head Boy or Girl on patrol would double check to see that they had not stayed too late. It did not increase her worry that the last occupant these days was none other than the talented and very trustworthy refugee, Artemis Morgen.

Hermione sat at one of the tables at the back of the library where she had been stationed since immediately after dinner. Caity Zupan had sat with her, as she had so many times before, dutifully finishing her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay on the Unforgiveables, when she finally had to dismiss herself from Hermione's side to begin her patrol. She left, promising to check the library again before she turned in to make sure Artemis had not fallen asleep studying. For this, Hermione was grateful, for she could never be too sure who else was roaming the castle this late at night and she needed all the time she could get in the library.

Hermione had found the Dark Arts books she had originally taken from Dumbledore's office in the Restricted Section of the library. Hermione would wait until Caity or one of her other new friends would leave before pulling out _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ and pouring over the section on Horcruxes. She had not found a way to retract a piece of soul from the vessel it was placed in besides the owner feeling remorse and reconnecting with it.

"Oh, that's _very_ likely," Hermione had thought to herself with a snort.

And she had not figured out, even if there was a way to separate herself from Voldemort's soul, whether or not it would be possible even then considering the Horcrux had not even been made yet in this time. And if she managed to place it in another talisman and destroy it… would she be transported home? Would Voldemort still be vanquished?

It seemed that Hermione had found a riddle that stumped her. But she would not abandon hope… there must be a way to destroy the Horcrux and return home.

Dolohov motioned soundlessly for Rosier to come closer. They had found what they had been looking for. Artemis was sitting quietly by herself, so engrossed in a book that she did not even notice the others in the room.

"Remember," Dolohov mouthed to Rosier. "Don't harm her." Rosier nodded, remembering what had happened to Nott.

The pair stepped out of the shadows and approached Hermione in the open. She did not look up. Rosier cleared his throat. Hermione let out a squeak and snapped her head up from the page on which incantations were needed to split the soul. She saw, with mingled anger and horror who was approaching her in the deserted library. She snapped the book shut and drew her wand. Both Dolohov and Rosier put their hands up in surrender.

"We're not looking for trouble," Dolohov said quickly. "We're only here to talk," he added with a smile that seemed more like a sneer.

"Just talk," Rosier cut in. "Like friends."

Hermione eyed them suspiciously.

"I have no need for friends like you," she said coolly, still pointing her wand at the pair of them. Anger was rising in Hermione again as she glared at Dolohov. She hadn't forgotten the strike he had inflicted upon her at the Ministry. She still woke up in the middle of the night every now and then with a stabbing pain in her ribs….

"Now, why would you say that? We haven't done anything to you," Rosier said smoothly. "We would only like to talk." And Rosier moved toward her cautiously. Dolohov followed suit.

"Stay where you are!" Hermione said raising her voice and getting to her feet. "I don't want to talk to you!"

Rosier scowled and his wand arm motioned to his pocket.

"No!" Dolohov hissed, grabbing his fellows arm. "Just calm down," he said, whether to Hermione or Rosier, it was unclear. "We don't want to fight you, Morgen."

Dolohov looked anxious. It was obvious the situation was not going as planned. He eyed Hermione's wand with a look of apprehension as though he wanted nothing more than to whip out his own or get the hell out there.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the pair of them. Why were they so reluctant to start a fight? She had never taken them as peace-loving boys before. …Unless their leader had given them direct orders not to harm her. This new idea did not make Hermione feel any less suspicious of the Death Eaters in front of her. What had Riddle told them? Did they know about the pulsating beat? Did they know she might be a Horcrux? For some reason Hermione doubted that Lord Voldemort would entrust even his most loyal with that sort of information. Still… perhaps he had done something to Nott. Hermione was even more unnerved at that idea. That Riddle could get away with bullying and torture in the very walls of Hogwarts, right under Dumbledore's nose….

"What's the matter? Your boss won't let you fight? Or are you as cowardly as Slytherins are rumoured to be?" Hermione was again amazed at how reckless she was proving to be. Harry must have truly grown on her over the past seven years….

Dolohov sneered at this.

"You'll shut your mouth about things you don't understand," he said angrily, losing his cool.

"Or is it both?" Hermione prompted, knowing she had hit the nail on the head.

That had done it. Rosier had pulled out his wand, but years in Dumbledore's Army and fighting along side Harry had given her quicker reflexes than that of a normal eighteen-year-old witch.

"_Impedimenta_!" she shouted before Rosier could even open his mouth. Rosier was blasted off his feet and into a nearby bookshelf. She prayed that Caity Zupan would check on her soon… She really didn't know whether she could take on two Death Eaters at once….

But Dolohov had still not drawn his wand. He had, however, turned tail and ran toward the double library doors, leaving Rosier behind. Apparently the prospect of getting his arse kicked by Artemis and then getting punished by Voldemort on top of that did not seem appealing to him. Hermione decided to let him go rather than chase him down. She may have grown more reckless during her few weeks in the past but she was still not one to go looking for a fight.

But as Dolohov opened the double doors, a look of shock and fear crossed his face and he shrank back into the room as though the halls outside of the doors were on fire.

"My Lord," he muttered as he quickly backed away.

Tom Riddle stepped into the library and took in the scene of Rosier huddled among fallen books, of Dolohov's recoiling figure, and of Hermione's flustered state and drawn wand. His face showed no emotion as he walked further into the library. His eyes rested on Hermione and she began to feel her pulse pick up to an almost unbearable speed. She knew he was angry….

Rosier picked himself up from the floor and discreetly tried to hide his wand back in his robes. Tom caught the gesture and pulled out his own wand. Rosier cowered against a bookshelf.

"Tom!"

Hermione was shocked to hear her own voice sound across the library. Riddle froze and looked over at her with mild curiosity on his face.

"He didn't attack me," she said hurriedly. Damn her Gryffindor chivalry. "They just wanted to talk. I didn't trust them so I hexed Rosier."

Riddle stared at her with raised eyebrows. He seemed to be reading her mind again, as though trying to tell whether or not she was lying. Hermione desperately tried to close her mind. Riddle turned back to Rosier, giving him a contemptuous look.

"Go. Go back to your common room," he said in a cold, demanding voice. "I will deal with you later," he said sneering at Rosier.

Rosier hurried to Dolohov's side and the two of them left the library quickly, bowing to Riddle before doing so, avoiding his gaze.

Hermione shivered as Riddle frowned at their retreating backs. She wondered if she were going to receive the punishment Riddle had just spared Rosier. She held her wand tightly in her hand, prepared to duel, though she wondered if dueling Riddle would be just as difficult as taking on two full grown Death Eaters…

Tom turned back to Artemis, the frown still set on his face. So she would not be persuaded? This would not do. He could not have a piece of himself attacking his Death Eaters, though he was pleased to see that she had the nerve and ability to handle herself. His eyes darted to the wand in her hand and noted how white her knuckles were. So she was preparing herself for a fight against him? Now how would that play out? Could she betray the second soul inside of her? Tom grinned at her. Perhaps he would humour her. They could duel and he could weaken her… and then he could find out what he wanted from her.

He raised his wand and Hermione mirrored the gesture.

"_Stupefy_!" she cried as an equally red jet of light emitted soundlessly from Riddle's wand. The spells met in midair and a shower of red sparks filled the room, lighting the amused expression on Riddle's face and the furious one on Hermione's.

With another swish of his wand a second jet of blue light fled from Tom's wand. Hermione blocked it soundlessly and sent a jagged, yellow stream of light from her own. Tom's brow tensed and he motioned his wand in a complicated gesture, causing a silver shield to be formed between him and his attacker. A resonating gong filled the room.

"What are you doing here, Riddle?" Hermione asked as the shield blocked all spells momentarily from both sides.

Tom flicked his wand and the shield disappeared.

"I persuaded Caity to allow me to patrol this wing of the castle," he explained as casually as if they were not in the middle of a wizards duel. "She insisted that I not forget to check on you as you often stayed in the library after hours. It is a good thing I did too. That pair could have done serious damage…"

And Riddle sent a brilliant purple blaze at her. Hermione motioned furiously to the wooden table she had been sitting at and it sprung to life. Power seemed to charge through the inanimate object as it charged between the dueling wizards and prevented the purple flames from reaching Hermione. The flames scattered and the table went charging at the man Hermione had grown to hate so much. Riddle's eyes widened momentarily before he made a violent jabbing gesture with his wand and the table broke into a thousand tiny splinters.

"I wonder, where have you learned to duel so efficiently?" he asked, his initial amusement gone. "Who are you, Artemis?" He silently sent a binding charm her way.

Hermione didn't answer but deflected his curse without difficulty, wondering why he was holding back. She waved her wand in a circular motion above her head. A dozen golden canaries appeared and Hermione motioned them toward Riddle.

With a lazy flick of his wand, the canaries froze, merged, and transformed, becoming an ugly black serpent that fell to the floor and hissed on the ground between them. And then Hermione witnessed something she had only ever seen Harry do once before. Riddle gazed at the snake, opened his mouth, and a strangled stream of hissing noises emitted from his throat. Hermione stared at him, transfixed, her wand forgotten. The language appeared to be coming from his body with such natural ease, as though it had been the first tongue he had ever spoken and understood, very much unlike Harry. Riddle raised his eyes to meet Hermione's, a smirk playing on his lips. He raised his wand and Hermione twitched, but Riddle only waved it at the serpent, which evaporated into a whisk of smoke.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, a look of hesitation on Hermione's face and a look of smug satisfaction on Tom's. He began to make his way toward her. Hermione raised her wand and pointed it steadfast at his chest. He made no motion to stop but only continued to approach her, his hands casually by his sides. The wand almost touched the front of his robes. He raised the hand that did not contain his wand and placed a single finger on the edge of her wand, trailing it down to the base where her hand grasped it. Hermione's eyes followed his hand's decent as though mesmerized by it. The majority of her will told her to blast him to oblivion, but a small part of her cried out in want for his hand to make contact with her own. And it did.

It was almost the same effect as his lips had made against her neck. Fire spread up Hermione's arm and her eyes snapped up to meet Tom's. Tom held her gaze, his eyes noticeably darker, as his hand wrapped around hers and lowered it, loosening her grasp as he did so. Hermione's wand fell from her hand. A pained expression shot across Hermione's face as she realized what had just happened. With a step, Tom closed the space between them.

He pocketed his own wand; he had no more need for it for now. He continued to hold Hermione's hand with his left, while he raised his right hand to her neck. He grinned and closed his eyes in elated fascination at the double rhythm in her neck and the way she shivered at his touch. He pulled her closer to him, massaging the base of her scalp and moving his left hand from her hand to her waist. She was his… he did not know how it had come to happen, but she was _his_.

Hermione was not sure what to do. Here she was, standing in Lord Voldemort's embrace… and she was _enjoying_ it?

_It's the Horcrux_, she reminded herself fiercely. _Of course… it's thrilled to be near its owner-_

But as true as that may be, Hermione found herself getting pleasure from the thumping pulse and the touch of his skin on hers. He was being uncharacteristically gentle and all thoughts and memories flew out of her mind as they had the last time he had touched her. Being a head shorter than him, her head had come to rest on his chest and she could hear his heartbeat and knew that it was pounding along at the same time as the soul in her. His breathing was steady this time; unlike it had been in the changing room, and her own became even in time with his.

Hermione allowed her eyes to flutter closed for a moment as she listened to that heartbeat… it reminded her of something in her past. She racked her fuzzy brain for what it might be. A thumping or a ticking… another familiar beat… Hermione's eyes snapped open and she violently pulled away from him, her eyes filled with anger and confusion.

Tom was not pleased that something that so undeniably belonged to him had pulled away so abruptly. He had almost forgotten that she was still a mystery to be solved. His hand grabbed hers again as she tried to pull away.

"Let me go!" she shouted, trying to yank away from his firm grasp. Her wand was still uselessly lying on the floor.

"And why would I do that, Artemis? When you are keeping something so vital from me. What is it?" he growled as he tried to pull her back to him.

She struggled ferociously but his other hand had grabbed her right wrist and forced her close to him. With both wrists in his hands now he spun her and forced her against the nearest bookshelf. He really did not want to be this rough with an object containing something so precious… she was just forcing him to be.

"I see you kept your hair the way I like it," he taunted her as he pinned her body against the shelves with his.

Hermione made no retort at this but only continued to struggle violently against him. After successfully pinning her in place, Tom moved his right hand to her chin and forced her to make eye contact with him. He was going to get to the bottom of this right now while her emotions were running too high to defend herself.

"_Legilimens_," he hissed without need of a wand.

_Hermione was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, thirteen years old and crying silently as she leaned over a pile of papers and discreetly watched a red headed and dark haired boy with glasses out of the corners of her eyes…_

_Hermione was fourteen and shouting at the red haired boy. The argument was something about betrayal and some stupid dance…._

_Hermione was sixteen and sending a swarm of golden canaries at the tall redhead who was ducking and shouting in surprise…_

_Hermione was eighteen and huddled together with the dark-haired boy with glasses, gazing in disgust at a golden locket decorated with an elaborate S…_

_Hermione was eighteen and kissing the red haired boy full on the mouth who was dropping an armful of fangs…._

"NO!" he heard Hermione scream, but it was too late.

Tom pulled himself out of her thoughts. He had seen enough. The fact she had been in the Gryffindor common room at such a young age, the fangs, the locket.

His eyes were blazing with fury and excitement as he stared into her terror filled eyes.

She was sure he had surmised by now that she was not from Durmstrang and had attended Hogwarts for almost half her life… and he was bound to be furious about the basilisk fangs. She trembled as she saw his eyes flash a deep scarlet, expecting the worst.

"Where," he began with a voice that sounded as though he was struggling to keep excitement from it, "did you find that locket?"

"What?" she asked trying to avoid answering his question.

"The locket," he snarled shaking her violently. "Where did you find it?"

Hermione felt her back smack into the book's edges behind her.

"It was a gift! F-from my mum! It's mine!" she lied desperately. If he hadn't been grasping her so tightly she was sure that her legs would not support her. The pulse was beating painfully in Lord Voldemort's anger.

"Liar," Voldemort breathed, his eyes flashing red. "That locket bore an S for the name of my forefather."

"N- no!" Hermione shouted, tears forming in her eyes. "It's an S for Selwyn! I'm related to them!" she rattled off, remembering Umbridge's lie back in the Ministry. But she knew that he would never believe her lie. Lord Voldemort always knows….

Voldemort gazed down at her frightened face with an expression of mixed fury and excitement on his own. So she would not tell him? No matter… he would force the truth from her in due time. In the meantime one of his present Horcruxes seemed far too preoccupied with a certain red haired boy…

"Who was that," he demanded, tightening his grip on her wrists.

"Wh- who?" Hermione repeated, shocked at the change of topic. She had been sure he would interrogate her until she confessed. She could only assume that he was talking about the Boy-Who-Lived… the boy who would be his downfall…

"The redhead! Whom were you kissing?" he asked callously, gripping her wrists even tighter still. Hermione felt them begin to bruise.

"What?" she asked shocked again, tears filling her eyes. "N- No one!"

"Liar," he growled quickly. He would not allow what was his to belong to anyone else. She still had feelings for this boy… he read it in her eyes; on her face… she loved him. Revulsion rose up in Voldemort at the thought of this vial human weakness. She loved him.

Hermione did not utter a word, afraid that she would give something else away. She had to protect Ron. She did not know how this Riddle could possibly reach him, but she could not take any chances. The continuous red flashing in Voldemort's eyes told Hermione that if ever found Ron… he would surely kill him.

Tom stared down at the girl, seething in anger, for a few moments longer, as though considering her.

"Tom?" Hermione asked uncertainly. She did not know what he was going to do to her but if he was going to do it, it was better to get it over with now rather than prolong it.

Hermione jumped in shock at the feel of his lips crashing down on hers. It was like a bolt of electricity had spread through her body. The kiss was hard and fierce as though he were trying to claim her… and she knew he truly was. His lips were much softer than she had expected, though the kiss was rough and harsh. The pulse had reached a new height, beating against Hermione's chest with such ferocity that she thought it would certainly break free and entwine with Tom's….

Hermione almost began to respond before she remembered whom she was kissing. She proceeded to struggle against him once more but the demands of his kiss made her efforts useless. His hands gripped at her shoulders, her waist, her hips… he seemed to be debating something with himself… His left hand found the top of her skirt and pulled on the shirt above it, freeing it. Hermione pulled away from Tom's kiss with difficulty, whether because of its aggressiveness or because of how much she had been enjoying it she was not sure. She looked down to see his hand slip under the bottom of her shirt and make contact with her skin, his fingers hot against it, and the pulse gave an extra pleasurable thump. Hermione looked up again, her mind going pleasantly blank once more.

Tom kissed her neck, something he found he enjoyed doing very much, as his fingers made small circles around the soft skin of her hip. He continued to kiss and bite her neck and his hand made its way up her soft flesh. He hesitated as he reached the edge of her breast. He stopped kissing her neck.

Hermione was utterly out of breath now, dreading and wanting whatever was to come next.

Hermione groaned as his hand slipped out from under her shirt. She looked up into his face questioningly, which was as unreadable as ever. But his soul betrayed him. The ticking beat told her of his anger and confusion, though the anger was not aimed at her. He pulled away from her, though he kept one hand possessively on her waist.

"I never want to see that boy in your thoughts again," he said in a low voice, trying to steady his breathing. "Am I clear?" He gripped her waist firmly.

Hermione did not nod, but she did not refuse him either. She simply held his intense gaze until he removed his hand and moved away from her and out of the library without so much as a backwards glance.

Hermione stood frozen for a few moments before she sank to the floor, trembling, searching the carpet for her wand. She patted around before her hand finally rested on it, the familiar warmth spreading into her fingers.

She sat on the floor, motionless, clutching her wand, staring in the direction Tom had just exited. A dry sob escaped her mouth as she made a mental note to never remain in the library after hours again.


	10. Connections

My breath is filled with the light

Sorry for not updating for like a day. Bad news. I won't be updating for a few days. I have summer homework to finish and then school starts. I may have time to write chapter 11 tomorrow. But this chapter is really really long so I'm sure it can tie you over. Much love to all of you who have been supporting me!

Thanks to: stargazer starluver, ikelepsis, nerys, blindfaithoperadiva, tears of winter, arella, michaela, halfbloodprincess3 (hi shanti's sister!), maripas, mr. sam, caity, ana, aaron a aaronson, zozz, annikacan, and golden leaves of mirkwood for reviewing!

Sorry for not responding individually. It's 4:24 and I just finished the chapter like 10 minutes ago. So also excuse typos. I'll find them tomorrow. You can thank Mr.Sam again for a hot chapter.

"Mr.Sam says: hmmm...just think of what you would do to me and theres your inspiration. Smut city"

Just letting you know, Sam, that you asked for it.

And Caity... I will find you!

_--_

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Ten: _**Connections**_

_My breath is filled with the light_

_Beneath the skin of my loved ones_

_Who saved me from dripping wings_

_But discarded me along with them_

_But this seems to be something we do_

_Own and discard_

_Connect and disconnect_

_Whether love still connects us_

_I can't say_

_My veins are filled with the blood_

_Beneath the skin of my loved ones_

_And at least love is a memory_

_And a memory_

_Sends chills_

It was when Hermione agreed to a night of gossiping, junk food eating, and giggling that she realized she was lonely. She had left her friends, her family, her future, and her entire life behind when she had been sucked into this bizarre world. It was more than once when Hermione would awake during the night and think the breathing around her was really that of Harry or Ron. She was beginning to even miss the days of hiding beneath that cat smelling tent, just to she could be near them. She realized… it was all worth it. Every minute of arguing and every sacrifice she had to make had been worth it, not only because Harry had needed her help but because she had needed Harry and Ron. She couldn't imagine what she would have done with herself if she hadn't gone with them… but she could imagine how worried she'd have been.

It was all worth it.

But now as she sat amongst her new peers, listening to them laugh and chatter away happily, she wondered how worth it all this was. As if she had a choice, she reminded herself. She had been forced into this past. But there was no mission waiting for her here. So she should forget about Tom Riddle and continue looking for a way out. Perhaps she could tell Dumbledore the tiniest bit about her predicament and together they could find a way to withdraw a Horcrux. There was no need to let on that she herself was the said Horcrux… she did not want Dumbledore setting up a path for her like Harry's… she wanted to discover a way to survive this… Voldemort, after all, never took her blood for his use. There was nothing to tie her to the earth but her will to live.

But Hermione had not dared to remain in the library alone since Riddle had cornered her. Every time she thought about what happened… well two things occurred… she felt sudden revulsion and pleasant shivers. It had been a week and Riddle had not tried to repeat what he had done. There was, however, a definite change in the way he acted around her… as though she were delicate and valuable. He was courteous, but not falsely so. His Death Eaters had not so much as looked at her since their run in at the library. Hermione feared the worst in Rosier's case. He had not even acted angrily about her refusal to tell him anything about the locket. He had not mentioned the fangs or the memory of her in the Gryffindor Common room at the age of thirteen.

Hermione had defiantly refused to stop thinking about Ron. How could she? If she did she would only be falling into Riddle's games. But she still practiced Occlumency when she caught him staring at her. It was much easier to do when she was not pinned to the wall by him…. Hermione tried time and time again to forget about what he had done. But it was impossible. Whenever she tried to put it out of her mind,_ he_ would be there in class, meeting her gaze, carrying her books to her next class even when she had not asked him to, offering her help on her assignments (which she always refused)… and every time he was near she could feel his lips on hers as though it had been more than a kiss but a brand burnt on to her lips.

"Artemis, is anything wrong?" Agatha Prewitt asked. Hermione jumped. She had been engrossed in thought, not really paying attention to what the other girls were saying as they sat in their dormitories late on the Friday night after Riddle had cornered Hermione.

"I- I'm fine," Hermione said dully. "I was just thinking."

"Probably thinking about the library," Elizabeth snickered. "I noticed you haven't been spending every waking moment there this week."

"Tuh! I bet I know what she's really thinking about," Victoria Zabini said with raised eyebrows.

Hermione looked confused. What on earth could they imagine she's thinking about? She waited for Victoria to drop the bomb, assuming it would be far off the mark.

"She's thinking about Tom Riddle," Victoria finished with a triumphant note in her voice.

Hermione could not hide the look of surprise on her face. How could they know? Had news of Tom and her encounter spread? Well, these things always find a way to leak out, she reminded herself glumly, thinking of all the rumours that would follow after one of Harry's adventures.

"See, I told you. Look at her face," Victoria said gleefully. "I bet he's going to ask you to the next Hogsmeade weekend- the way he always carries your books and smiles at you."

Hermione internally groaned as the girls laughed. So they thought Riddle only had a bit of a fancy for her did they?

Agatha scowled.

"If he does, I don't think you should say yes, Artemis," she advised. "There's something about him… he's kind of scary."

Hermione felt relieved that at least one of the girls was not apt to trust Riddle full heartedly.

"Don't be silly," Elizabeth snapped at Agatha. "You just don't like him because he's in Slytherin. He's nice enough and he seems to have really taken to her."

"Yes, I've noticed it too," Caity said more serenely. "He stares at you a lot. And he was really keen on checking on you in the library the other day." She grinned. Elizabeth smirked.

Hermione felt angry. There was no way she could make these girls understand. How could she tell them how scared she was? She could not reveal any of her anxiety and fear to them or what had really happened in the library. Besides… Hermione was sure Riddle was only interested in her out of his selfish need to protect the piece of soul inside of her. If she did not possess this quality, he would have never looked her way.

"So?" Victoria asked. "What are you going to say if he asks you?"

"I don't really want anything to do with Riddle," Hermione said coolly. "If he asks me I'll say no."

The girls looked surprised, even Agatha.

"He's probably going to be Minister of Magic some day, he's cute, he's nice, and he likes you. But you would turn him down?" Victoria asked curiously.

Hermione resisted the urge to scoff. Minister of Magic? Well, you could say that…. But she had to be patient with these girls. They had no idea what Tom Riddle's future held and he was rather deceiving. In fact, if Hermione hadn't already known that he had already committed murder and split his soul she might have fallen into his spell as well.

"I just don't have any interest in him," Hermione stated simply. "He's not my type. Pass the butterbeer please."

The Gryffindor girls exchanged impressed and bemused glances as they passed around a box of butterbeer.

--

Tom was furious with himself. How could he have lost control like that? The girl may contain a piece of his soul, and yes she may be attractive but under no circumstances could he lose control of himself. He might as well have just shagged her against the bookshelves. He had to be above such mortal needs. He couldn't need, want, or lust after anything on this earth. He needed to master himself. But she… she should need him desperately… that was the only way to ensure she was loyal to him. She had such defiance… she was so rebellious. She hated him. She knew what she had inside of her and she reviled it.

Tom felt anger bubble up inside of him. She should be honored to possess something so powerful. And another thing… she had the locket! Where on earth had she found it? Did she still possess it? The memories he had forced from her had only created more questions rather than solve the mystery. How had she attended Hogwarts all these years? Who was the dark haired boy who also knew about the locket?

_And how…_ he thought with fury, _had she and that boy managed to obtain basilisk fangs._

Perhaps he could slip her some veritserum… but that would be too risky. He never sat near her at meal times and he doubted she would ever accept something he gave her. He must find away to corner her again… to get her on her own and force her to tell the truth…. and to eradicate these human urges he had for her.

--

"So, Artemis," Riddle said smoothly the day before Halloween right at the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts. "There's a Hogsmeade visit tomorrow. I think you should go with me"

Hermione gapped at him. Was he mad? Did he think she was stupid enough to get herself trapped with him again?

"No, Riddle. Now excuse me I have to use the restroom," she said curtly and tried to push past him.

"Perhaps you should use the girls restroom on the second floor. You seem to be quite familiar with it already," he growled quietly, not allowing her to pass.

A familiar sense of cold dread crept up Hermione's arms and legs. She stared at his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

"The first floor girls room is closer, thank you," Hermione said boldly, despite her fear.

Riddle's eyes flickered to Professor Merrythought momentarily. Seeing that she was discussing the score of an essay with another student, Riddle's eyes snapped back to Hermione's. He took a threatening step towards her.

"I believe you understand what I mean," he said, keeping his voice calm. "You are a great deal of trouble, Artemis. The locket, the fangs, and this," he finished placing a hand possessively on her rib cage. Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Is everything alright over there?" came the voice of Professor Merrythought. Apparently she was done talking to the student. Hermione saw, with a sense of frustration, that the student was Victoria who was eyeing Riddle's hand on Hermione's waist with a look of smug satisfaction.

"Yes, Professor," Riddle said pulling away from Hermione and smiling. "I was only asking Artemis if she would go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow." He gave Hermione a politely expectant and hopeful look that she knew to be as genuine as the name he called her.

"Oh, that's lovely. I always thought you two would make a wonderful couple!" Merrythought said with a wide grin on her face. "Well, Artemis, are you going to keep this young man waiting for an answer?"

Hermione looked desperately from Victoria (who was still wearing that frustrating expression on her face), to her Professor, and then reluctantly to Riddle whom she could see a look of demand and triumph in his eyes among the fake look of courtesy.

"I- I suppose so," she said in a small voice, hating herself.

Whatever Merrythought and Victoria's reactions were, she would never know for her attention was entirely on Riddle. His posture had relaxed and he had taken her hand and given it a small kiss, she could feel the smirk on his lips, before exiting the classroom.

Hermione glumly walked out of the classroom with Victoria who was giving her a hard time of what she had said only the night before.

"You two are going to be the talk of the school!" Victoria said excitedly. "Oh, I bet you'll never forget this Hogsmeade visit, Artemis!"

And Hermione agreed, with a pang of fear and anxiety. She would probably never forget this Hogsmeade visit as long as she lived.

--

Just as Victoria had predicted, everyone had already heard that Tom Riddle and Artemis Morgen were going to Hogsmeade together by the next morning. Everyone seemed thrilled that the two brilliant orphans had found comfort in each other and were sure that this relationship would grow into something deeper.

With a great sense of dread and foreboding, Hermione dressed and made her way into the Great Hall the morning of Halloween. Riddle was already waiting for her. She noted for the first time since meeting him how handsome he truly was. He was very tall and the green and black of his robes suited him very well, along with his dark hair and eyes to match. Hermione had to physically shake her head to pull her thoughts away from that kiss yet again. But doing this only reminded her of how she still wore her hair to her shoulders… just the way he liked it. It was at this point that Hermione began to realize just how much control Tom Riddle truly had on her. And now she was walking toward him against her will to spend an entire day with him. She would rather spend the day with ten blast-ended skrewts….

He smiled at her as she approached him and held out his arm for her to take.

Make that twenty blast-ended skrewts.

She did not take his arm right away but only stared at him with a look of trepidation and bemusement on her face.

Riddle, not wanting to look as though his own date did not want to be with him, grabbed her arm quickly and linked it with his own. Hermione closed her eyes momentarily as the beating inside of her quickened and hardened at his touch before opening them again and allowing herself to be led out into the grounds and towards Hogsmeade. She felt as though she were going to be sick.

"We will be making a short detour once we reach Hogsmeade," Riddle told her casually, though his soul betrayed a beat of excitement. Hermione was not pleased to hear this.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. They reached the small town and strolled along the streets slowly, memories of happier visits to the village filling Hermione's mind while Riddle smiled and winked at anyone who looked their way. After a few minutes of this they made their way to the Hog's Head. Hermione felt tears sting her eyes as she looked up at the sign and wondered whether Aberforth was the bartender here yet, and whether during this time he and Dumbledore were on speaking terms.

"This way," Riddle said and tried to pull her around to the deserted side of the bar. Hermione resisted.

"I'm not going anywhere no one can see us," she stated fiercely. Riddle sneered. Hermione's arm went to her wand. He grabbed her wand arm quickly, preventing her from pulling it out of her pocket, though she still had it in her grip. "I mean it, Riddle."

Riddle removed his hand from Hermione's arm and smiled at a pair of fourth years that were passing by, eyeing them curiously.

"Don't make things difficult, Artemis," he growled in her ear. "I told you we had to make a detour. You will come or I will _make_ you come." His eyes flashed red.

Hermione tried to pull away from him, but his grip was too strong. He yanked her along with him until they reached the deserted side of the outside of the Hog's Head.

"Riddle! Let me go!" she said loudly, reaching for her wand yet again. But as she withdrew it his hand pressed over her mouth and he jerked her to him, crushing her wand between their bodies. Riddle spun with her on the spot and they were gone.

There was a crack and they appeared. Hermione looked around at her surroundings… she gasped. They were in Knockturn Alley. Why had he brought her here?

"Tom! We're not allowed to apparate away from Hogsmeade! We could be expelled!"

Somewhere in Hermione's panic she recognized how lame this argument was considering Riddle had already done a handful of things that should have landed him in Azkaban let alone gotten him expelled.

Riddle took Hermione's present disgruntled state to jerk her wand from her hand. She cried out in anger. He twirled it in his fingers and it was gone… as though it had dispparated. Hermione gapped at his hand where her wand had been only moments before.

"What- what did you do? WHERE'S MY WAND?" she shrieked furiously at him, gaining stares from shady passersby.

But he didn't look at her, but only tightened his grasp around her arm. He pulled her, struggling, with him, down the alleyway. Other occupants of the alley seemed to either not care or ignore the fact that a teenage boy was forcing an angry female down a dangerous street with him. A hag tried to stop them to offer them glittering trinkets for only two galleons. Riddle ignored the hag. He yanked Hermione with him forcefully.

And then they were in front of Borgin and Burke's. Hermione stopped struggling momentarily and frowned at the familiar store. Last time she had seen this place was when her, Harry, and Ron had followed Draco. She was not pleased to be back. Tom forced her through the door with him and approached the front desk. The scent of dust and old wood met Hermeion's nostrils.

"Ah, Mr. Riddle, it's nice to have you back," came the tired voice of an old man. Hermione surmised that this must be Burke. She had never seen him alive, Borgin being the sole owner of the store during Hermione's time. "I was beginning to think you had become a stranger… and you've brought a guest…." His eyes rested on Hermione with interest.

"Hello, Mr. Burke," Riddle said, confirming Hermione's suspicion. "Yes, she goes to my school," he said brushing aside Burke's interest in the girl. "I have need for an object. Would you still have-"

"Yes, I do believe so," Burke said apparently already knowing what the young man wanted, eyeing Riddle more intently. "That is if you have more of something for me…."

Hermione felt Riddle's hand tense on her arm while her pulse sped up. She could tell he was angry though the emotion did not show on his face. Riddle nodded curtly and pulled out his wand. Hermione flinched and saw Burke's eyes snap to it immediately, as though trying to decide whether the gesture was threatening or whether it would provide what he wanted. But Riddle only flicked his wand and a small jar of murky white liquid appeared on the counter before him. Burke's face lit up.

"Marvelous! I don't know where you get it, but it's not in my business to ask questions," Burke added hurriedly, eyeing Riddle's wand again, which he had not put away. "Yes, what you've come for. It's back here…." He beckoned for them to follow him.

Tom's grip on her arm tightened still as he walked. Hermione and Tom walked around the counter and followed Burke into a small storage room. Hermione noticed Riddle's eyes darting to various objects along the walls with greed, but he seemed to be containing himself, considering that the object he had come for was more important than the others around the room.

And then Burke had it in his hands… a small golden pot with letters scrolled across it in a foreign language.

"Here it is," Burke said carrying it delicately over to Tom. Tom's face lit up, though not in a pleasant way. "Will you be taking it with you, or-"

"May we use a room," Tom asked abruptly, not removing his eyes from the golden pot. Hermione noted, with panic, that he used the pronoun "we" as in she was included in whatever he had in mind.

Burke's face paled and his eyes flickered over to Hermione. Hermione did not take this a a good sign.

"I am not sure. That would be fairly risky… right in the store. The Ministry is already asking questions…."

Tom sighed and flicked his wand a second time. A second jar of the same liquid appeared and Tom caught it, letting go of Hermione's arm in doing so. Hermione thought, in a moment of insanity, that she should make a run for it. But that may not be a good idea considering she was unarmed and located in Knockturn Alley. Before she could make up her mind, however, Tom and Burke had traded objects and Tom was grabbing the material on her shoulder with the same hand he was gripping his wand, and leading her into the next room.

The old wizard watched them go with a look of guilt and uneasiness on his face.

They entered a smaller, dusty room, with nothing but a square table in the center of it and a few dozen candles surrounding the walls for light. Tom sat her in one of the chairs at the table and took a seat across from her, placing the pot gingerly upon the tabletop.

"Was that liquid basilisk venom?" Hermione asked, amazed by how steady her voice was.

Tom nodded silently, still eyeing the golden object.

"What is that?" Hermione asked, following his gaze. Maybe if she understood it she would not fear it.

He finally looked up at her, meeting her brown eyes with black.

"This," he began, "is a powerful instrument. It is used to bind two people. In ancient times it was used to bind a women to her husband before the practice was outlawed, being considered Dark Arts."

"But you don't have a problem with that, do you?" Hermione snapped, beginning to comprehend why he had brought her here.

Tom gazed at her with an intense look Hermione had come to expect from him. He then smirked.

"No, I have no problems with that." He raised his wand to the small pot and a liquid as equally gold as the pot below it began to pour from it. It hit the bottom of the pot and turned black. "You see, in our case we are already quite bonded. I really have no need for additional unions. While a piece of my soul belongs to you, you entirely belong to me."

"Then why am I here," Hermione snapped again, resenting the fact he believed he owned her. She eyed the door to the room, trying to find any way to escape.

The black potion in the pot had begun to swell as though it were alive.

"Because, sweet Artemis, you are a liar," he practically purred. "One effect of this process is that the woman can no longer lie to her husband. One reason, I believe, that once more women began to fill the ministry the practice was outlawed."

Hermione was outraged and horrified at this act of sexism and control.

"I will _not_ drink that!" she raged, thinking with horror of all the things she must keep from him. Of Harry and Ron and the future of Tom Riddle. Of her parents and the downfall of Voldemort….

"No, you won't," he said as-matter-of-factly. Hermione stared at him in surprise. "I will."

Hermione looked at him in terror. She could refuse to drink the potion herself but she could not stop him from taking it. But something was missing… how could only a black potion bond them together? Surely there had to be some action on her part….

"I will need your blood," Tom stated simply as though he read her mind as he stirred the black potion with his wand, which was now turning a burning red.

"No," Hermione heard her voice say, and she felt her head shake back and forth in refusal, though she felt as though the body she sat in did not belong to her. "No. I won't."

Tom looked at her with an amused expression on his face.

"Well, I didn't think a little insolent witch like you would hand over her blood willingly," he said with a cruel laugh and raised his wand. Hermione shrank back in her chair.

"_Imperio_!"

And Hermione felt blissful. She felt glorious numbness fill her brain and she had not a thought or worry… it was like taking a draught of dreamless sleep. Nothing mattered anymore.

_Walk over to me and hold out your hand._

Hermione made to move but something held her back. Now why would she do that? Didn't she not want to do that?

_Come over here, now. It's all right. I won't hurt you._

She'd heard those words before. Perhaps she couldn't trust them. Hermione felt her legs twitch but remained in her seat.

_Come. Now!_

The voice was angry now and Hermione felt less inclined to do what it said. She would not obey it.

"NO!"

And Hermione felt the bliss lift off of her and shock, anger, fear, and the memory of where she was and whom she was with came crashing down on her, heavier than it had been before being cursed. Her chest hurt and she realized that she had slammed into the table and fallen backwards onto the floor. Tom looked livid.

Nothing of his should disobey him. If he could not master her, he could not master himself.

"So, you're able to repel the Imperius Curse?" he asked, standing and moving toward her threateningly. "That just adds to your mystery. I will be very glad when I am able to crack it," he snarled and approached her with his wand raised. As she watched him raise his wand to her, Hermione felt strangely calm.

"Tom," Hermione heard herself say gently. "Tom, please."

He froze, staring down at her with curiosity and anger on his face. She managed to shakily stand herself up so that they were standing in front of each other. He continued to stare coldly at her though he was becoming more curious by the minute.

"D- don't do this," she said approaching him cautiously. She was not sure what she was doing, but wandless and friendless, she had to do something. She did what seemed to come naturally.

He did not step away from her as she approached him, but he lowered his wand.

"Please," she said as she finished closing the space between them. "Please, don't."

Both of their breathing was ragged. Tom's pupils had dilated as he stared down at her anxious and pleading face. What was she doing? Maybe he was growing soft but he allowed her to place her hands on either side of his head. He felt the familiar giddy elation as the pulse in her hands beat against his temples. Before he realized what was happening, he was sitting in the chair Artemis had just fallen out of and she was sitting on his lap, caressing the sides of his face with her hands. He pocketed his wand to allow use of both his hands and he gripped her waist as usual as she continued.

Hermione had not meant to end up on his lap, but she never really had a plan in the first place. This new position surprised her. She felt more powerful than she had in weeks…. She saw his eyes close as her hands moved up to his hair, running through it gently. She had an effect on him, just as he had an effect on her. Hermione leaned in closer to him, enjoying guiltily the way his arms encircled her waist. She felt the pulse thump in joy as their chests made contact or was that her own heart? Or both?

Hermione leaned her head in towards Tom's, feeling his shallow breathing against her neck. All thoughts of what he had been trying to do to her and thoughts of what she was suppose to be doing fled her mind. He opened his eyes as she lowered her face and their dark eyes met. He was intoxicating.

Hermione pressed her lips onto his gently. Unlike the kiss they had shared a week before, which had been harsh and demanding, this kiss was soft and calm. Hermione deepened the kiss as Tom began to respond. His lips parted and he bit down on Hermione's lower lip. She parted her lips in response and his tongue darted in. Hermione sighed and entwined his with hers. She felt his hand slip beneath the back of her shirt and move across her smooth back, sending shivers up her spine. They continued to kiss as his hands moved around to the front to cup her breasts. Hermione gripped his hair a bit tightly as he proceeded to massage them through her bra.

She worked her hands out of his hair and stroked his face gently before running them down his broad shoulders, down his chest, and to his hips. She felt him tense and grinned against his lips. Then… sudden inspiration came to her.

It happened so quickly that she was not sure whether she had thought of it herself or some divine spirit had guided her. Her left hand plunged into Riddle's pocket and grabbed his wand, pulling it out of his pocket. She pulled out of the kiss, rather reluctantly, and jumped off his lap, running towards the door. She did not even check to see whether or not it was unlocked. She blasted it down and ran through it, ignoring Riddle's roar from behind her. She sprinted past Burke at the front counter before he could even comprehend what was happening and out the door into the dark street. With wand in hand, she darted into the nearest alley, hearing footsteps running to catch up with her, and spun on the spot, apparating back to Hogsmeade and familiar faces. She apparated to the front of the Hog's Head and began running back towards Hogwarts, Riddle's wand still in her hand, ignoring shouts of question from other students around her. She ran as fast as her legs could take her and did not stop until she reached the Great Hall, which was already being filled with students excited for the Halloween feast.

--

edited for the love of amy lee. gotta keep my readers pleased. :)


	11. The Eye of the Storm

I'm aliiiive! I'm so sorry guys! I'm killing myself writing college essays and scholarship essays. Thankfully writing is right up my alley but it's still a lot of writing. This chapter is rather short. :( I was eager to get something up so I finished what I've had for a couple weeks and decided to post it. It's not rushed or anything so don't worry the quality is the same. There just isn't much quantity. XD

Next time there will be more! And I promise to post at least every other week! And if I fail at that just know I must be really really busy. I'm trying to find a way to pay for room and board. meh.

But anyway! I'm still enjoying this fic and I hope you are too! More exciting things to come! I have stuffs up my sleeves!

Sam:)

All my reviewers: tackle/fly/snoggles

Disclaimer: JKRowling! Where are you???

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Eleven: _**The Eye of the Storm**_

_And now_

_The show_

_We have all been waiting for_

_This is when we start being _

_in charge of our own lives_

_So what is it going be?_

_Flight or fight?_

_Or fall?_

She had not thought… she had not believed he would do something so… so evil to her. She had thought for at least a couple weeks that she was safe from immediately danger due to the fact she contained something he held so dear. She felt so foolish.

Hermione sat shaking in her dormitory. He could not reach her there. She had run as fast as her legs could carry her into the Great Hall. Her eyes were met by happy faces, but she could not stay there. She could not pretend right then that nothing was wrong… she just could not. The attitude of the festive students clashed with her hysteria and fear. The scent of food made her want to vomit. So only seconds after entering the Great Hall she had turned and run up to her dormitory… the only other place she felt safe. And even there she felt uneasy because she was alone and not surrounded by her usual pack of Gryffindors. But she did not believe she'd feel better in the Great Hall… out in the open like that… who knows when he'd be returning.

Hermione still had his wand. She looked down at it as she sat on her four-poster. She felt disgusted to be holding it. She had no idea whether he had been able to retrieve her wand and return to Hogsmeade. She was sure that when he finally made it back he would be greeted with questioners who had seen Hermione run out of Hogsmeade in a panic.

Hermione felt a burning satisfaction at the thought of this.

"Good," she spat to the empty dormitory. "Oh, I hope this _kills _his reputation!"

She had been so arrogant, thinking that she had not fallen for his charm and lies like the rest of the school, but for as much as she knew about him, she had trusted him far to much, and she had hardly trusted him at all!

But Tom Riddle seemed so _different_ than Lord Voldemort! Tom was handsome and brilliant and quite an excellent kisser….

Hermione smacked herself on the forehead. Tom had proven just how like Lord Voldemort he was, only an hour ago. He had tried to control her. Of course he would try to own and control her completely! He could not very well let his Horcrux go around thinking for itself. This is why making a Horcrux out of a human object was so risky… Humans were ever changing, flawed, and mortal.

She could no longer avoid him. She knew. She could no longer hide from him and pretend that she did not share any connection with him. He was right. They were bound by what she held inside of her, bound by his greed and his selfishness. What wicked and destructive forces she had come to possess inside of her! Had the future Riddle known how all consuming... how _intoxicating_ his soul would become?

But Tom Riddle was not a stupid man. He may try to possess her but he would do anything to keep her alive. As far as she knew, there was no known way to retract a Horcrux from what it resided in unless that Horcrux were to possess another being, like it had with her and in Ginny and the diary's case.

But those had been enchanted by Voldemort himself to ensure the survival of his soul. What did he have in store for the being that had taken from the cup? As far as she knew she was not possessed by it but only carried it.

There was so much she did not understand. She would have to return to the library. She would have to find help. Dumbledore was missing from the school almost as much as he had been during her sixth year. After the third time he had been absent from Transfiguration, she had realized that he would be defeating the Dark Lord Grindelwald within the school year. She had been impressed by this thought and worried for him. And she could not find the time to approach him and fill his mind with more worries about Dark Lords.

Hermione was still determined to not change the future. Though as tempting as it may be to tell Dumbledore of all the evil things Riddle would do in his future and conspire to bring him down early before he had the chance to destroy almost everything she held dear, she could not. She had to let history play itself out and focus on her own present problem… alone.

So Hermione had to find a way to read those Dark Arts books undetected, and without staying after hours. If only she had Harry's invisibility cloak! Then she could sneak into the library at any time and read in privacy. Hermione needed a plan.

The game had come to destroy or be destroyed. She could give up or wait so long that the soul inside of her would swell and consume her, so that she would no longer be Hermione but truly a Horcrux of Lord Voldemort. Or she could fight to destroy the piece of evil and finish what Harry, Ron, and her had started a year ago.

Too many people had died in the fight against Voldemort. She could not let their deaths be for nothing and if she did not succeed… they would be.

Hermione realized with a dead resolution, as she gripped Riddle's wand in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white, that she was going to destroy the Horcrux even if the end was fatal.

---------------------------------

Tom was seething. He had convinced Burke to allow him to use his wand until he could at least retrieve Hermione's, but it had cost him another jar of basilisk venom and he was growing tired of wasting his pet's precious venom…. He did not like to share. Once he had procured the wand he had disapparated back to Hogsmeade. Apparently Artemis had not tried to conceal the fact that she was in a state of distress as she ran back to the school. He was bombarded with questions on what had gone wrong. He simply gave them a sad smile and said she had grown emotional talking about her parents. He understood.

They seemed to swallow this well enough though a few students still looked apprehensive. Tom had quickly departed from them and hurried back up to the castle. He checked the Great Hall for her, and, after seeing that she was not there, proceeded to his own room; ignoring questions, not caring about the festivities. If she had made it back, she would surely be in her own dormitory, avoiding him and even he could not break into the Gryffindor girl's dormitories. Well, he supposed he could try but it would surely end badly and with a school even more suspicious of him than they were by now.

He fumed as he sat into his armchair by the window. It was better that he skipped the feast. People would assume that he and Artemis were together… whatever they thought they were doing would still be better than him showing up to the Great Hall with out her.

That little witch stole his wand. Tom shifted in his chair uncomfortably, remembering how she had done it. Had that been her plan all along as she climbed on top of him? His long fingers gripped the arms of the purple armchair tightly. He was surprised to find his anger lay more in the fact that her intentions had not been to proceed kissing him rather than that it had been to steal his wand.

What was he to do with her now? Well, he knew what he should do with her but it was highly risky to do such a thing in Hogwarts… especially under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. But Albus Dumbledore's nose was not around Hogwarts very much these days. In fact, Tom had not remembered seeing him in the Great Hall when he had checked for Artemis. The man was gone rather often these days. Often enough for Tom to perhaps pull off something that would ensure his Horcrux would no longer defy him.

Tom sat up straighter in his armchair at the prospect that he would finally be able to solve his greatest problem. He could even get his Death Eaters involved. After all, a little physical damage would not harm the piece of his soul.


	12. The Promised Plan

Hello! Look! A real update! woo! I was in a terrible mood today and I did not know how to fix it. Then I remembered how happy writing this made me so I sat down and finished the 12th chapter. I am stressed as hell but you know. Not much I can do about that right now. I hate school.

I hope this chapter lives up to all of your expectations unlike how avatar the last airbender is not living up to mine. the last episode was good but meh.

Anyway! Back to Harry Potter! I'll try not to leave you guys hanging for so long anymore. I think the last time I updated was in August. That's two months! I'll try to update at least once a month. I couldn't go several months without updating. I'd feel too guilty. Really it's comments and positive feedback that kept me interested in writing this story. So thanks!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is my BFF but JKR's creation.

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twelve: _**The Promised Plan**_

_How can you fly_

_with weights clinging to your side?_

_Come float with me on shadowed air_

_and disgard your dripping wings._

_You'll fly farther and with more grace_

_without those heavy things_

She would use him. The mechanics in Hermione's brilliant mind had begun to tick. She would use him to get what she wanted. She would engross herself in him and find what she could from him. As dangerous as he was… at least she would remain alive long enough to discover how to destroy his soul. She would stay alive and she would get what she wanted. That was all that mattered right now.

And Hermione returned to the library. She sat there long after the lower grades were ordered to bed, long after Caity yawned and made her way out, giving up on asking Hermione what had really happened between her and Tom, and long after the librarian had left, telling her not to stay too late.

Hermione was waiting. She was daring him to come find her, _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ lying patiently before her. That entire day people had been questioning her, digging for information of what happened at Hogsmeade. Hermione only shook her head and ignored further questions. She could not possibly tell them the truth but she would not lie for Lord Voldemort. She was not sure whether he had any way of knowing she was sitting here waiting for him. But if he was as desperate to own her and she knew he was, there was a chance.

Her pulse beat excitedly as she waited. She internally cursed herself for this. She was not supposed to _want_ to see him. Only need him to come so she could get whatever information she needed from him and end this hell. An hour passed since Madam Goshawk had left. An hour and a half… two hours….

Hermione shut _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ with a loud bang. She was angry. What was the deal? She had been so sure that he would be eager to get her by herself after their incident at Borgin and Burkes. She had thought he would sic his little lackeys on her by now. Was he bidding his time or making her sweat? Or both?

Hermione gave up and rose from the back table she had been sitting at. It was past midnight and she had to wake up early the next day to finish the homework she had been putting off. She just could not concentrate when her prospective plan was flooding her mind. Whenever she would try to clear her overworked brain unpleasant thoughts of what had occurred the night before would creep into her mind… his soft hair, his burning lips, his tensing as though he had wanted what was to come next more than she had.

Hermione shook these thoughts from her mind and marched angrily out of the library. She gave up. She would have to find a way to confront him tomorrow. The castle was dark and familiar as she made her way back to her dormitory. God knows how many times she had made her way through these halls late at night, under the cover of an Invisibility cloak.

"I thought you would never leave that blasted library."

Hermione drew her wand and spun on the spot as quickly as she could, her eyes searching for the voice. But she knew whose voice that was.

Dolohov stepped out from behind a set of armour, his own wand drawn and pointing toward Hermione. There was an insane expression on his face as though he weren't altogether himself.

"What do you want, Dolohov?" barked Hermione, keeping her wand pointed at her opponents chest, flashes of their last encounter flooding her mind. Had Tom sent Dolohov to find her? "If you want to talk again then you can just bugger off."

Dolohov's expression did not change, though he did step farther away from the suit of armor and further into the dim light of the corridor.

"I assure you my intentions have changed since we last met. I have no desire to talk to you."

And as though those words had been their cue, five other black-cloaked boys stepped from behind suits of armor, their wands drawn and pointed threateningly at Hermione. She was surrounded.

"Oh, how very _noble _of you all," Hermione spat, keeping her wand raised and her chin up, though she hoped they couldn't see that her hands had begun to shake slightly. "Matching a Gryffindor six to one. What remarkable odds."

"As much as we'd like to stick around to hear the rest of your witty banter…." It was Avery's voice, coming from behind Hermione's left shoulder.

"We have our orders," Mulciber finished for him.

Hermione was able to block only one stunner as jets of red light came at her from all sides.

---------------------------------------------------

Hermione winced. Her body felt as though every muscle had been pulled and then unprofessionally healed. She tried to turn her head but found it was impossible. She began to panic. Hermione opened her eyes. The setting did not mirror the fear inside of her. She was lying on a large bed in what looked like a dormitory, though from what Hermione could see with her peripheral vision, there were no other beds in the room. What she picked up instead were the outlines of a half dozen Death Eaters. If she had control over her vocal cords she would have screamed but the only things Hermione seemed to be able to control at the moment were her eyes. They seemed to have no trouble producing tears.

It felt strange to cry. Hermione noted that this was the first time she had allowed herself to cry freely since she had found herself in the past. The tears poured out of her eyes and slipped into her hair, which was spread across the white pillow.

"Why the tears, Artemis?"

Hermione felt both relieved and disgusted to hear that voice. It was the voice she had wanted to hear all night. Why did it have to turn up now when she was petrified upon this bed instead of when she had the upper hand in the library? But then again she had no one to blame but herself. She had compromised herself by wandering out of the library alone. She had only believed that he would never think of setting his Death Eaters on her once more.

Again with the trusting….

"You wanted to see me? Then why are you so sad you finally got your wish?" Tom stood at the foot of the bed in his own bedchambers. He stared down at her, elated and apprehensive all at once. "Unpretrify her," he commanded.

Hermione felt her muscles relax, though they still felt as though they had gone through a beating. She sat up gingerly and scanned her surroundings. She was sure she was in the Head Boy's room. There were only two doors. One must lead to the bathroom while the other led to escape. Every boy surrounding her wore a mask, except for Tom. He stood boldly before her, meeting her gaze with a piercing one of his own. He seemed to revel in the authority and power he held over the boys.

He lifted something up before her eyes and smirked. His wand.

Hermione growled. So he had his wand back. Well then, where was hers?

"You can't keep my wand from me forever," Hermione growled boldly. "You can't keep _me_ in here forever. This is a school. It would be a bit stupid of you if I didn't show up to class tomorrow wouldn't it?"

"Mulciber, show Miss Morgan what happens when someone speaks out of turn in my room," Tom spoke coolly, almost indifferently, as he inspected the wand in his hands.

Hermione twitched as Mulciber raised his wand and pointed it directly at Hermione. She screamed as the familiar pain pierced every inch of her skin. What had happened? Had Riddle suddenly decided he did not care for the piece of him inside of her? Was she going to be killed? Hermione's screams clouded her thoughts and took over her senses until she could no longer feel the pain, but only hear her screaming. She stopped and opened her eyes. Masks covered the Death Eater's expressions, though their movement proved them uncomfortable. Hermione realized she had continued screaming even after Mulciber had taken the curse off of her.

Shakily, Hermione turned her wet eyes toward Tom, who was inspecting her with mild interest, as though she were a complex question in potions. This made her furious and she did nothing to hide this emotion from him.

"That will be all," he stated quietly to no one in particular, but at these words all his Death Eaters turned toward the exit and left swiftly.

Hermione was left alone with Tom, breathing heavily and struggling to sit up in his bed. How could she get out of this? What was he going to do to her?

Tom stood staring at her, stroking his wand in a long movement as she glared at him. He debated what to do next.

"No," he finally replied simply. "I cannot keep your wand from you forever." He grinned at this and began to move around to the right side of the bed. "But for now I can."

He sat on the edge of the bed, facing her, studying her carefully. She made to move away from him but he grabbed her shoulder.

"You seem so eager to get away from me. Weren't you looking for me?" He asked her coldly. "Tell me, Artemis, what did you need me for?"

Hermione yanked herself from his grasped and toppled over the side of the bed. He reacted quickly and stood as Hermione rose shakily from the floor. She had no means of protection… so she raised her fists. Tom Riddle moved around the bed laughing. It wasn't the cold, high laugh that Hermione was used to. Nonetheless, it was not pleasant. It was mocking.

"You'll try anything," he said smirking. "That won't do." Tom raised his wand and flicked it toward Hermione. She screamed as her hands clamped together on their own accord and swung over her head, pulling her back against the bedroom wall. It was as though invisible chains had wrestled her back against the green painted wall.

She growled in frustration, panting and out of breath.

Tom approached her. He made a motion with his hand that Hermione was now familiar with and his wand vanished into midair.

"Now where were we?" he asked innocently as he stepped in front of her. "We seem to have been in this same situation many times before. It tends to end unfortunately abruptly."

He met her eyes and Hermione groaned. They were darker than she'd ever seen them. No signs of red shown through indicating that he was in total control of himself at the moment.

"This time," he said placing a palm on the side of her cheek. Hermione used all her strength to resist from leaning into its warmth. "it will not end until I say so."

Fresh tears were slipping down Hermione's cheeks. She had never wanted anything to go this far.

She felt his lips press against her cheek. They felt cool in comparison to her flushed cheeks. She was shaking violently. She felt disgusted with herself. Why was she so afraid? She was a lion! But she had never been the bravest in her adventures with Harry and Ron… only the most logical and loyal.

He moved down to kiss her neck roughly, moving his hands under the sides of her shirt to caress her waist.

More tears spilled from Hermione's cheeks. Unlike the times before, his touch burned her skin in his wrath. She could not prevent herself from crying. It amazed her. This was the first time she was able to resist and not desire his advances. She turned her head away from him as he lifted his head from her neck to look her in the face.

Tom stared at her with mild interest and great frustration. What was wrong with her? By now she would usually be leaning into him. Why was his Horcrux becoming better able to resist him? He could not blame her for being afraid but the change in her response to him since their last encounter was dramatic.

"Stop crying," he ordered, gripping her waist in a firmer grasp. The noise annoyed him and made it difficult for him to think. His command had no effect. She only continued to look away from him and sob.

His pulled his hands out from under her shirt and gripped her jaw in his right hand. He forced her to look at him. Her brown eyes were moist and clenched together as her head was jerked toward him.

"Stop it," he demanded again. Hermione only shook her head and continued to cry.

Tom moved his hands up along her arms to her magically binded wrists. He gripped them and they parted from the wall. He lowered them so their hands were between their chests, her wrists firmly clenched in his hands. He yanked her closer to him.

"Will you stop?" he asked shaking her slightly.

Hermione could do little to calm herself down as he shook her. She needed to get away from him.

Tom could feel his anger growing. She had to stop that fuss or… he didn't know. He hated that noise. It was such a sign of petty human weakness. His eyes flashed red. It was an awful reminder…

"I said stop!" he shouted and threw her forcefully from him.

Hermione landed on her back, sinking into the soft bed. She stopped crying abruptly in shock of the action. She stared up at him, still terrified, but curious. He wasn't looking at her, only staring at the bedpost, breathing heavily through his nose as though he was trying to get a hold of himself. She stared at him with amazed eyes, this being the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. She did not dare speak as the Future Dark Lord tried to control himself.

He finally looked at her.

"Good. You're done," he stated coolly, though some of the authority and danger had gone from his voice.

They stared at each other, frozen in time. Hermione could not move as his black eyes bored into hers. Tom watched her, debating on what to do with her next. Should he carry out his plan after that sign of weakness?

He approached the bed cautiously. He could see her tense as he neared her and he felt a sense of exhilaration from the fact. He knew what he wanted to do.

He leaned over her, forcing her to lie back, though he did not lay a hand on her, and rested his hands on either side of her. She was frozen in place, still frightened of and interested in him. They watched each other suspiciously, neither trusting the other.

"You are a liar," he sneered at her.

"You're a monster," she snapped back.

"Tell me your real name," he demanded.

"No," she said defiantly.

His eyes searched her face and Hermione prepared herself for a Legilimency attack. But his mind was on something else as he eyes looked over her flushed cheeks and her swollen lips. Hermione got the idea as his head lowered toward her and she surprised herself by rising up to meet his lips.

As they kissed, Hermione moved her hands around his neck and they settled into each other on Tom's bed. Hermione leaned into him as he kissed down her neck. Tom enjoyed the feel of her soft skin against his lips as he lingered on her pulse and moved on, thinking that this was not at all how he expected his plan to unfold and wondering whether what he was doing really had anything to do with Horcruxes.


	13. Burns

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Thirteen: _**Burns**_

_I am filled with such shame _

_Of my actions_

_And my past_

_I have never felt regret before in my life_

_But a denied kiss_

_Has become the greatest mistake_

_Of my short and ending life_

_And I feel farther from God_

_Than ever before_

_I feel his tears drip through my hair_

_Instead of his spirit breathing into me_

_The only way to heal me of this curse_

_Is to let the storm come_

_Along with the rain_

_So I may be cleansed_

_Of my scarlet burden._

_Es mia culpa_

_Es mia culpa_

Hermione could only remember flashes of the night before.

_Tom settled on top of her as they deepened their kiss, each one struggling to gain the upper hand._

She began to panic.

_Hermione tried to take control but Tom would have none of that. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the sides of her head as he kissed right below her jaw_.

Hermione tried to block the images out but they came crashing down on her like unforgiving waves.

_She arched into him, trying to force him to stop teasing her and attempting to free her hands. He got the idea and released her arms. She sat up, forcing him back, his hands going directly to the buttons on her shirt while she pushed the robe off his shoulders._

Hermione refused to open her eyes, dreading what she may find around her.

_Her shirt was discarded as she began to loosen his tie. Why did he always have to wear a damn tie? His hands roamed her torso, searching for the familiar rhythmic beat that had been absent thus far. She managed to remove his tie and unbutton half of his shirt before he lost patience and pushed her back onto the sheets. What had she done with his soul?_

Hermione felt the pulsing beat now.

_She stopped her ministrations with his shirt when he forced her back. She stared up at him, her mind perfectly clear. He gazed down at her, wondrously and suspiciously. Even now he did not trust her. He only wanted to prove that she was his again. He kissed her fiercely, hoping to elicit the desired response. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was certainly responding to him as usual. But this was quite a different situation. He continued to kiss her lips, passionately, as though he were experimenting with her. He lowered his hands to her skirt and pushed it up to her waist. She gasped against his lips._

_"Tom!" she breathed pulling away from his lips. "No!"_

_He narrowed his eyes at her._

_"No?" He did not like hearing this command from her._

_"I can't," she gasped._

_Anger flooded Tom._

Hermione snapped her eyes open to avoid the images flashing before them, but her curiosity listened to her memory.

_She could not tell him no. She belonged to him. He had to control her actions. He did not care what she wanted._

_His anger seemed to seep into her and the places where their skin met burned. He raised his eyebrows at this new sensation as she struggled._

_"Stop!" she shrieked at the pain._

_He debated ignoring her but froze. He removed his hands from her waist. He wanted her to want him._

_Curiosity replaced his anger. He watched her closely as he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder and traced the length of her arm. She shuddered. He smiled. Now he was getting somewhere._

_She realized with a horrified thrill that the soul inside of her had begun to take root._

_They were now in a struggle to see who could remain in control of whom._

Hermione saw the room that surrounded her. The green walls teased her.

_He was winning. She shivered as he explored the inches of her skin; his eyes glinted with a mad pride. It was her turn to be angry. Fury rose up within her and he detected this shift in her mood immediately. He stopped his movements and their eyes locked. He smirked down at her and she blushed. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist._

_He placed his hands on her calves and ran them up the length of her body while he kissed her neck again to comfort her. She closed her eyes and sighed._

Hermione was warm. There was a source of heat lying behind her. She wondered whether she should move away from it or settle into it.

_They moved back into the rhythm they had before she had spoke. He kissed her hard, biting her lips as her hands moved down to his waist to work his belt._

Hermione knew what had happened next. She did not need to remember any more. She turned her head slightly on her pillow to see Tom laying beside her, sleeping peacefully, one arm draped around her possessively. Tears stung her eyes.

How could she have let it go so far? This changed everything.

She moved slowly away from him in bed, careful not to wake him. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and dressed hurriedly.

She had to reassess. His hold over her was becoming disturbingly strong and could only become stronger after what they had done.

She hurried to the door. And to think she had classes.

Hermione spun around in horror to check the time. They had classes! It was already well past nine. Their first class had already ended.

Hermione almost groaned out loud. Now she would have to make up the work on her own time. Hermione's worry over her grades disappeared as she saw Tom rustle out of the corner of her eye. Homework seemed so trivial compared to the other problem she was facing.

Hermione was about to turn and leave when she saw it: her wand lying on the bedside table. Had he left it there on purpose? It didn't matter. Hermione crept toward it quietly and picked it up. Once her wand was secured in her hand she made a dash toward the door, exiting the room as though it were on fire.

She almost ran down the hall. She felt filthy. She needed to shower and she might as well do so since she had already missed her first class. She dashed down the hall towards the prefect's bathroom of which Caity had given her the password.

And just then the very girl came walking around the corner.

"Artemis?"

Hermione almost jumped. She spun around and saw Caity's worried expression gazing at her.

"Oh, H-hello Caity," she said in a falsely chipper voice.

"Where were you this morning? You missed a great lesson today in Defense. We talked about the Unforgiveables," she asked as she approached Hermione.

Hermione felt relieved. At least she hadn't missed anything she did not already understand. The relief left her, however, as she remember that the Cruciatus curse had been place upon her only the night before.

Caity eyed her nervously.

"Artemis, are you alright? You look very pale." Caity reached out to feel Hermione's forehead. Hermione jumped.

"Y-yes I'm fine. I was sick this morning. I- I just slept in," Hermione forced a smile.

Just as Caity opened her mouth to question this further the source of Hermione's troubles came hurrying around the corner, fixing his tie as he walked.

What little color that was left in Hermione's face left it. Caity noticed Hermione's expression and turned to see Tom moving toward them.

"Good morning, Caity," Tom said forcing a smile. He seemed to not like the idea that a girl in both of their classes had caught them both in the hall after being absent from their first class. "Good morning, Artemis," he said eyeing her carefully.

"And where were you this morning? Sick as well?" Caity asked tilting her head at Riddle. She seemed to be putting two and two together. She glanced back at Hermione's face, whose expression was still nonplussed.

"I was, I'm afraid. It seems Artemis and I caught the same bug while we were in Hogsmeade," he replied, trying to keep his voice courteous. Hermione noticed his demeanor seemed uncomfortable.

"I see," Caity replied, not seeming to buy into Riddle's act. "And I guess that's why Artemis came running back to Hogwarts after the visit as well."

"Yes," Tom answered curtly. "She wasn't feeling well so she ran ahead. Right, Artemis?" He looked at her sternly as though expecting the girl he thought he claimed the night before would obey him. He expected only one answer from her.

"No," Hermione was surprised to hear her own voice say.

Caity looked at her in surprise. Tom's eyes flashed.

"What happened, Artemis?" Caity asked, stepping closer to Hermione as though to protect her from Riddle.

"Nothing happened," Tom snapped. He was beginning to panic. If Artemis told Caity the truth then his entire reputation at Hogwarts would be destroyed. He could be expelled. "She was sick. And I told her to run ahead. She was very upset."

He could not be expelled from Hogwarts. This was his home. His home. The school of Salazar Slytherin. He had a greater claim to the building than any other that walked through its halls.

Hermione could feel the anger and panic that coursed through Riddle. She knew his past. She glanced up at his face, which was as white as her own yet still bore the usual guarded expression.

"It's alright, Caity. Everything is fine. Really," she added, seeing Caity's exasperated expression. Besides, if she told Caity what had really happened she would be putting the Head Girl in danger. "Go to class. I need to talk to Tom."

Caity opened her mouth to protest but Hermione shot her glance. Caity shrugged and walked off, sending Riddle a suspicious glance over her shoulder as she rounded the corner.

The two were left along again. Tom rounded on her. She could feel his anger, seeping from every pore. He made to move toward her. Hermione reacted instinctively and pulled out her wand, aiming it at his face. Tom froze. In his hurry to find her he had not brought his wand with him. A mistake. Tom's anger turned on himself.

"If you threaten me again, if you ever send your Death Eaters to kidnap me or place that _curse_," Hermione spat the word, feeling bitterness toward the spell that Bellatrix Lestrange had placed on her not too long ago. "on me again, or if you try to control me, I will tell the entire school what you have done and then more."

Hermione's hand was steady as she pointed it between Riddles eyes, which were locked with hers. He believed that she would. And he knew that she had a disturbing amount of knowledge on him, though he did not know where she had heard it.

"Am I clear?" she demanded.

They stared each other down for several moments before Riddle was forced to nod curtly and move back toward his room.

Hermione watched him go with a sense of pride and suspicion. She knew he would be careful from now on in fear that he would lose his precious school, but he also knew that if he lost her he could lose so much more, and that was immortality.

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Tom was furious with himself as he reentered his room, deciding to blow off the rest of the day's classes. He would simply claim he had been ill tomorrow.

He had given her too much power. He had allowed her to become too close to him and now he was paying for it. She threatened to tear him away from the one place he had ever felt at home. He felt cold waves splashing through him out of anger and panic. He had allowed himself to become too close to her as well. He had grown attached to her… as disgusting as it was to admit. He had allowed himself to care for her more than he wanted to control her. That had been obvious last night. Tom felt suffocated in his own room. The air smelled like _her_.

He grabbed his wand off the table he had left it and waved it violently at his bed. The sheet disapparated, leaving the mattress steaming as though the bedding had burned off.

Her scent was still hung in the air. Tom realized that _he_ also smelled like her. He pulled his robes off quickly, trying to escape it.

He felt sickened. Had he been the one in control? He could not tell now looking back on the scene. He had certainly manipulated her but he had had no control over himself. She had a piece of his soul inside of her but it was the girl herself that he had become so attracted to.

She threatened to destroy him, she threatened to weaken him, she challenged him, and she was somehow a Horcrux. Who was this girl? Tom gripped his hair in frustration. He was losing control of himself. He was losing control of the girl who had a part of himself in her. Control the girl and control himself.

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Hermione shuddered as she stepped into the hot water. She hadn't showered since her Borgin and Burkes experience…

But as she slid underneath the water of the prefect's bathroom, she sighed in contentment, She had finally managed to one up Riddle. He would be furious with her no doubt but what did she care? He was Lord Voldemort. He was bound to be mad about something.

_He is a foolish little boy who is angered when he doesn't get his way_, she thought to herself firmly.

_He didn't act like a little boy last night,_ added the tiny voice in the back of her head.

Hermione scrubbed herself clean.

An advantage she had after what had happened was she knew Riddle would not distance himself. He would be watching her every move after her threat and she would use that to her advantage.

Hermione relaxed her sore muscles in the warm water and played with the giant, soapy, pink bubbles that surrounded her. She leaned back in the bath and closed her eyes, trying to force the images of the night before out of her mind. A soft click penetrated her thoughts. Hermione shot up in the shower, listening hard for the source of the noise.

"No need to get up for me," she heard a low and threatening voice say.

Hermione nearly screamed. She instinctively pulled her knees up to her chest to shield herself.

"Get out!" she snarled as Tom Riddle walked into view. Her eyes were blazing fire.

"Where is this newfound modesty coming from, Artemis?"

Tom stood staring down at her, a shadow passing across his aristocratic features. Again he was faced with a situation he wasn't sure what to do with, but he could not simply let her walk away from him, believing she had won the fight. No, no. No one defeated Lord Voldemort. She would have to pay.

Tom tilted his head to the side as he stared at her form, which was shaking with silent fury. She was important to him; containing something so precious… but that would make this all much sweeter. He had confunded Caity. He couldn't very well let the girl walk around the school, gossiping about her suspicions of him. One simple spell was all it took for her to forget the entire conversation between the three of them and for her to reveal that Artemis was in the prefect's bathroom. He had hurried over, obliviated the portrait at the entrance, and entered swiftly, with only the thought that he must regain control.

He smirked down at her.

"My mistake. I did not know anyone else was bathing," he said with sickening polite air. "Though I have to say it isn't as though there is anything here I have not seen."

"Get out, Riddle," Hermione snapped again. The images of what he had done to her the night before almost clouded her vision.

"No, I don't think I will," he stated simply. He loosened his tie. Hermione blushed. "What? You seemed to not like me wearing this tie before," he said as he removed the green silk from his collar.

He began to unbutton his shirt, still smirking down at her challengingly. Hermione recklessly debated exiting the water to grab her wand. She shut her eyes. She heard him chuckle.

"Why so tense, Artemis?" she heard his voice say, and noted with a thrill of dread that it sounded closer than it had before. "You seemed so eager to be closer to me yesterday… and indeed that day at Borgin and Burkes…" His voice rang with a threatening note at this.

Hermione found courage and opened her eyes to glare him down. Just as she was opening her eyes she saw him lower himself into the pool-like bath. She gasped. It was as though the water had acted as a conductor for his energy. The bath was filled with the same head-lightening intoxication that radiated off of him. Hermione pressed herself harder into her end of the tub, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

He waded toward her until they were almost touching.

"You didn't expect me to allow you the ability to destroy everything I've been working for did you?" He growled. "We should really talk, Artemis, about everything that's happened between us."

"Why bother talking when you've already decided what is going to happen between us, Riddle?" she asked breathlessly.

"You can drop the formality of using my last name, Artemis. We're far too intimate to continue that," he said, reaching out a hand and twirling a lock of her golden brown hair in his fingers. He looked at the curl in his fingers with narrowed eyes. "You know, Artemis, you could possibly be the best thing that has happened to me. You could potentially be the worst, but I am determined that will not happen."

Hermione's knees were still clutched against her chest. She had temporarily lost her ability to speak as she felt the waves of his energy flowing through the water and surrounding her.

Tom moved closer, removing his hand from her hair and running his fingers slowly from her ankle up the length of her calf.

Hermione felt her legs loosen involuntarily and lower from her chest. He ran his hand along her thigh and her legs parted allowing him to step between them, forcing their chests to touch.

Tom watched her reaction. She seemed to be fighting enjoying this scenario and screaming for help at the top of her lungs. He stared into her brown eyes, filled with apprehension and anger. He almost forgot the entire purpose of his visit as he lowered his forehead down to touch hers. He wanted to claim her lips and re-enact the events of the night before.

But he couldn't lose focus. That was the cause of his problems.

"_Legilimens_," he whispered harshly.

Hermione was not ready for his attack. He entered her mind easily and retrieved the information he had been searching for for the past two months.

She gasped as he pulled out of her thoughts, tears filling her eyes. His hands gripped her arms, pinning her in place as she struggled to get away from him.

"Well done, Hermione," he began smoothly, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "Tell me, how did you come across that marvelous cup?"

"Let go, Riddle! I swear I will tell the entire school what you are!" Hermione shouted at him, terrified at what he was going to do with her now.

He pushed her firmly back against the tub wall, removing his hands from her arms and using one to grip her jaw and the other to stroke the side of her body sensuously.

"You will do what I say, 'Mione," he growled mockingly in her ear. "And from now on, you will refer to me as Lord Voldemort."


	14. Immortal

Another quick update! Woo! I can't say that the next one will be up as soon though. I have found writing this fic is a nice outlet from school. I do have the beginning of the next chapter formed in my head but not so much after there. Let me know if my Hermione is accurate. I went back to consult Deathly Hallows and HBP today before finishing writing it. She is quite the sober in Deathly Hallows though you guys tend to like a strong, hardass Hermione. I'm trying to find a middle ground. 

Svelte Rose: I put more effort into this next chapter so I hope you think this one is the best one ever. Haha. And oh god I don't know if I'll be able to write smutty smut. I'm a little prudish. blushes

Sienna: gratzi!

Nerys: Tom losing control really hot.

Heidi: that was my favorite comment so far. Haha. I guess we can just assume that they're using protective charms but actually writing in that Voldemort put on a condom would kind of kill the moment.

Hajnalmadar: I like your nick. What's it a reference to? And thanks!

Maripas: I think you'll like the length of this chapter.

MalfoysMudbloodPet: Oh god I wish I was Draco's mudblood pet. purrs

Shedyourmask: I like your nick too. And thanks!

Michaela: evil tom is my favorite kind of tom. 

Dooki: heat good.

Rachlhulk: they did go at it again! Lol. Sorry I didn't write it out.

RannayBabiiex3: here's an update!

Bvc: thanks. I really want to keep them as in character as possible.

Jellyacey: I saw you've written 11 stories! That's intense.

Ginny2006: ohh yeah. Power struggle hot passionate sex.

Killtheenviousmoon: I like the Shakespeare reference in your nick. And yeah! Hermione can't deny that he is a foine boy.

Disclaimer: Whatever JKR says, goes.

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Fourteen: **_Immortal_**

"_The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for survival. It can't exist without it… _

…_You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux_."

–Hermione Granger, Deathly Hallows

Hermione felt as though the nightmare she had fallen into had suddenly become all too real.

It seemed incredible how she thought she could take on Tom Riddle. The greatest Dark Wizard to have ever past through Hogwarts.

_He's only a kid, _she told herself firmly.

_But so is Harry and look at what he managed to accomplish,_ replied that obnoxious voice.

During classes they acted as though nothing had happened at all. Tom was a marvelous actor. Even Caity seemed to adore him once again, though Hermione suspected this had been the result of a spell. The entire school assumed that Tom and Artemis were somehow involved… they way they looked at each other and noticed each other in the halls. How Artemis seemed to shiver every time his hand make contact with hers. None of this went unnoticed by the students of Hogwarts as the weeks past. Though not a single student ever wandered in on them alone together, which was curious indeed because it so often happened that a couple would be found snogging behind a tapestry before dinner.

But as it so happened, Tom and Hermione were not snogging behind tapestries before dinner. They were not snogging at all. Hermione had been both frustrated and relieved when Tom had taken to disappearing after classes and not reappearing until dinner time. She had not even seen him in the library (though this may have been due to the fact that Hermione had taken to leaving it at least an hour before it closed). The majority of their contact was during classes when teachers often paired them together. Hermione remembered an instance only a week ago…

"_Today we are concocting something a little more challenging. It will take much longer than these couple hours to finish it," Professor Slughorn announced one morning._

"_The Ministry asked me to provide them with a generous sample of Amortentia. I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to test the skills of my top students."_

_He grinned broadly through his thick mustache at the room, particularly in Hermione and Tom's direction. _

"_So off into pairs you go! The ingredients are already laid out on the table. Consult your books and by the end of class we'll see who will be continuing on with this potion next week."_

_Hermione had tried to pair with Caity but of course…_

_"Miss Morgen! You'll be over here with Tom, now. I cannot wait to see what the two of you come up with!"_

_Caity had shrugged and moved off to work with her best friend Jill._

_Hermione had reluctantly turned toward Tom, who was already concentrating on his potion. She settled beside him and began to chop the ingredient neatly and silently. This was how they usually worked, as though he had not taken or she had not given him her self, her thoughts, her memories…_

_But it was felt between them. Tom could feel her frustration and Hermione could detect his arrogance. This was the only time they spent together since that day in the prefect's bathroom. Hermione knew he was up to something and Tom had no interest in sharing it with her… yet. _

_So they worked in silence, each adding their respective ingredients at the appropriate time until the potion began to take form and turn luminescent silver. Hermione knew they were doing it right when the appropriate scent began to emit from the cauldron. Hermione's heart hurt as she inhaled the familiar aroma. She thought of Ron, picking up the scent of mowed grass, parchment and—_

_Something was wrong. That third smell, the last smell, was not the one she was used to. It was not the smell that connected her heart with Ron. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she realized what the last smell reminded her of. She glanced toward Riddle who looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He turned to meet her gaze and Hermione's chest pounded. He looked stoically into her eyes but the Horcrux inside of her revealed the truth. But what was this? Lord Voldemort did not love…_

Only a small group of Slytherin boys could guess what was truly going on between their leader and the mysterious foreign student. Angry, though, were they to have been shut out of the details. They felt betrayed by Lord Voldemort but could do nothing to show it. If they took it out on the girl they were done for. If they expressed their anger to their leader… that idea would be laughable if it weren't so dangerous. They spoke to each other behind hands and closed doors and came to a conclusion. Either Artemis Morgen became one of them or she could not be trusted.

It wasn't until the early weeks of December that Hermione discovered what Tom was truly up to. She had assumed it had something to do with time travel and cups and Horcruxes. She had assumed right.

He grabbed her arm one night after dinner as she was exiting the Great Hall.

"Come with me," he whispered into her ear. The tiny hairs on the back of Hermione's neck prickled and she allowed herself to be led away from the crowd of people heading to their safe and warm dormitories. His grip was hard as he pulled her along with him, up to the fourth floor. Hermione recognized the path. They were heading toward the Room of Requirement.

"Tom?" she said questioningly.

He froze and spun around to face her, grabbing her other arm and pulling her closer to him. He glared into her eyes.

"I believe I told you to address me otherwise," he growled.

She couldn't believe he was going to force her to call him Voldemort. The name she had been too afraid to speak for years—the name she had even shuddered after hearing. It was taboo—a curse. To call him that name would be to admit to herself that Lord Voldemort had not gone from this world—that he was still alive and it was her fault.

He glared into her defiant face expectantly and her lips moved on their own accord.

"V-Voldemort," she said quietly.

"A little louder. I couldn't quite hear you."

"Voldemort!" she hissed. She felt like Harry defying the norm. She almost felt a little braver after speaking it even after all she had been through and after all the man standing before her had done, or will do.

Tom did not appear satisfied, but nonetheless, he turned and pulled her to the entrance of the Room of Requirement. He passed it three times and pushed aside the tapestry. He allowed Hermione to enter the room first, following her quickly and shutting the door with a snap. Hermione felt as trapped as she had in Borgin and Burkes.

The room was only big enough to accommodate the two of them and a small table in the center. He motioned for her to sit and she did so hesitantly. He sat across from her, pulling a cauldron and some ingredients out of his school bag as he did so.

"Don't even think about trying to make that damn binding potion again," Hermione said with more courage than she felt.

"I think you will like this one," he said, looking up to meet her gaze. He looked back down at his ingredients quickly and began to create a suspicious looking potion.

"So, Hermione," he said smoothly as he worked. Hermione shuddered as though she was twelve again and someone had just uttered the Dark Lord's name. "That locket, I'm sure, was a Horcrux. I am very pleased to see I eventually find it. I was afraid that my mother had lost it, as it was not passed on to me when she died."

Hermione watched him cautiously. It was not like him to mention his mother. He was far from sentimental to say the least.

"So where did you find it?" he asked, lighting the fire beneath the cauldron. The flames cast an orange glow around the room.

"You know I won't tell you that," Hermione said dejectedly.

He still did not look up, but continued stirring the cauldron with his wand.

"No, I did not think you would," he said as-matter-of-factly. "But that is not why you are here. Do you know what I meant by 'here,' Hermione?"

Hermione felt anger rise up inside of her. He was speaking down to her in a sickeningly condescending tone.

"You mean in this room so you can once again try to make sense of your lonely and pitiful youth by showing off, frightening, and then attempting to totally control me?" Hermione asked in a falsely sweet tone.

She saw his shoulders tense, but he continued with his potion as though she had not spoken at all.

"I mean here in this time. In my time," he continued not allowing her to react. "You are in my time to warn me that there are forces in your time trying to destroy me."

Hermione did not make a sound as she watched shadows dance across his face.

"And it is my job to stop those forces by preventing them from occurring at all. Your hand please." He held out his own for hers.

Hermione almost moved her hand to meet his, the Horcrux inside of her crying out for contact with his skin, but she resisted.

"How are you planning on preventing those forces?" she snapped at him. He had not read enough into her thoughts to know exactly who Harry Potter was or what he had done.

"Because this time around, Hermione, I have you," he said, finally looking up from his cauldron, his eyes a threatening black.

"What makes you think I will join you?" she hissed at him, pushing her chair away from the table. She was only able to scoot back a few inches due to the tightness of the room.

He smirked at her from across the table, his noble features, defined and sharpened in the dim light.

"You already have," he stated simply. "You are my Horcrux. Either you continue to bear my soul or become a Death Eater once I extract it from you."

"And if I refuse?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth.

"Then I will kill you." His face was hard, and his eyes promised he was speaking the truth.

Hermione broke eye contact with him, looking down onto the potion on the table.  
"What is that?" she demanded.

And Tom was ready to give her an answer.

"It's an experiment," he said looking back to it. "A Horcrux has never been parted with the object it has been contained in unless the object has been destroyed or, in your case, the Horcrux had been charmed to transfer itself if in danger."

Hermione was shocked. She had not thought he would have willingly parted the Horcrux from her.

"You want to rip the Horcrux out of me?" She was not sure how she felt about this. If he succeeded… he had just said he would force her to become a Death Eater or kill her. If he failed… what could happen to her?

"I thought you would be pleased. This has obviously been a nerve-racking year for you," he paused and met her eyes once more. Hermione felt her stomach clench.

When he spoke again his voice was softer, though not at all gentler. "You are human. You are weak and therefore cannot be trusted with my soul. If anything were to harm you I would be in danger as well. And we wouldn't want that now would we, Hermione?" he asked his voice turning malicious. "Now give me your hand."

Hermione paused, staring into the face she had become so familiar with over the past few months. She did not want to be a Horcrux any more, but if she let him have it he would guard it more carefully than before, and she would mean nothing to him. If she gave him the Horcrux and he killed her all was lost. Lord Voldemort would have won. But if she gave him the Horcrux and became a Death Eater she could remain close to him, ready to strike and destroy the last Horcrux. Hermione thought of Snape. What a difficult position her potions teacher had found himself in. And if a Slytherin could be brave…

Hermione held out her hand.

So could she.

Tom looked at her hand triumphantly and grasped it. Hermione closed her eyes at the contact. She would be relieved to finally be rid of this horrible intoxication of him.

She flinched as she felt something sharp touch her palm and realized that Tom had cut it. She panicked momentarily, not wanting to give something so personal, but he held her bleeding hand over the cauldron as drops of blood dripped into it. The potion hissed and turned from bright red to bronze. Tom released her hand and held the knife to his own, making a similar cut in his own palm. He held his hand over the cauldron and the blood of the heir of Slytherin dripped into it. The potion turned to a green so dark it almost looked black.

Hermione could not help but feel a twinge of admiration for a job well done.

"How does it work?" she asked, her insides beginning to squirm.

"You drink first," he said, picking up a ladle and dipping it into the potion. "I drink once the Horcrux has parted from you."

Curiosity buzzed in Hermione's mind as Riddle readied the potion. Despite her fear and anxiety she opened her mouth to question his methods.

"I thought that a Horcrux could only share hosts if its original container was still intact," she said thinking of what she had learned over the past year. "I destroyed your cup."

Tom's anger was apparent at this statement, but he set down the ladle, staring at the table pensively. He had not turned Hufflepuff's cup into a Horcrux until he was out of Hogwarts. He could not know exactly how he had done it.

"Certain spells and rituals can further enchant the object to ensure its survival," he spoke finally. "On another occasion I have created a Horcrux that could potentially make me stronger in the future. I'm sure you know which one I am talking about," he added, searching Hermione's eyes for the truth.

Hermione nodded. "The diary."

"And did it work?"

Hermione could sense Riddle's growing excitement. His body was tense and his face was solid with eager interest. Hermione felt sick.

"Yes," she said quietly, thinking of Ginny. The hatred she had almost forgotten that she held especially for Voldemort swept back into her. "And nearly killed one of my friends."

"Nearly?" Tom did not seem fazed by the sudden shift in Hermione's demeanor. He was only interested in hearing how his own genius plan had played out.

"It was destroyed," Hermione spat. "As you knew it potentially would. That was a Horcrux you were reckless with."

"How many others?" he proceeded with growing excitement. "How many was I able to create? Besides the cup, the locket, the ring, and the diary? What else?"

Hermione was unnerved by how much he already knew. He had already split his soul twice thus far in his life. After the locket and the cup there was still the piece he would place inside the diadem and Nagini, and the accidental piece that would imbed itself inside of Harry. She glanced at his ring, the ring he did not know was truly the resurrection stone.

Hermione would not answer him. She stared at the spot above his shoulder, avoiding his eyes.

Riddle scoffed. "No matter. This is why I must extract the piece inside of you. You are weak. You couldn't possible understand the pursuit of immortality."

"Not when it involves the suffering of innocent lives, _my Lord_," she snapped, bitterly.

Tom did not seem to take this as an insult. Instead he sat up straighter in his chair and smirked at her from across the table. She was confirming his future plans and correcting his future mistakes at the same time. And he would keep her close to him to further correct any mistakes he had made before and during her lifetime.

"Yes, I am your Lord now," he said picking up his wand. Hermione flinched. "It sounds very nice coming from those lips." He pointed his wand at the cauldron and the flame turned green. "It is ready."

"Where are you going to put it?" Hermione asked referring to the Horcrux. Her voice failed to hide her growing apprehension. She suddenly felt how close she was in assisting a ritual of the Dark Arts.

Tom raised his eyebrows at her and reached into his school bag beside him. He pulled from it something that made Hermione emit a soft scream.

The locket.

This confirmed the worst of Hermione's fears. It was possible to change time.

"It looks as though you weren't expecting this," Tom said with an amused tone, placing the locket beside the cauldron on the table. "Really, Hermione, as much as you seem to know about me… Didn't you know that as soon as I saw the locket in your mind I would not be able to rest until I found it? Especially now when I knew it existed and would one day come into my possession?"

He had already begun to change his future… a future where he would be impossible to defeat.

Tom held the ladle out to Hermione who was too stunned to take it. He sighed and leaned over the table, gripping her jaw and forcing the potion down the struggling witch's throat. Hermione smacked Tom's hand away as she began to feel the effects of the potion. He sat across from her, gazing at her curiously.

At first it felt as though she had to shiver, but that sensation quickly passed as a new numbing one filled her. Hermione reached up to touch her face and found she could not feel a thing. Tom was watching her with eager eyes as she waited for what was to come next. There seemed to be a moment of calm before everything in Hermione's world caught fire.

Her skin was burning.

She shrieked as what felt like hot flames licked her skin. She looked down at her hands. Nothing. They looked normal but surely there must be something consuming her that was simply invisible. She could see Tom watching her with interest... She closed her eyes, pulling at her sweater, trying to relieve the pain. She was dying. Voldemort was trying to kill her.

Suddenly she felt something cold touch her burning skin. It was the only relief to this agony. The pair of hands rubbed her arms, her legs, any spot of bare skin they could find. Hermione began to shake violently. The hands gripped her tightly as she let out another scream.

After what felt like centuries, the burning began to subside. The hands that had been gripping her moved up to her face. It felt as though a cool cloth was being pressed against her head. She opened her eyes slowly and realized the table had been knocked over and she was lying on the floor. The pair of hands belonged to Tom. She looked at his face and saw it was as unreadable as ever.

"It didn't work," he said quietly.

Hermione groaned and lay her head back down on the stone floor. The last thing she remembered before the day went black was how he lifted her from the floor and exited the room swiftly, clutching her tightly.


	15. Love Is All You Need

This is my longest chapter yet and I wanted to keep writing! Really I wanted to write more but it's already well over 5,000 words. So I'm doing the rest in the next chapter which I've already started writing.

I'm trying something different. I hope you like it. I didn't like how I did some event in the past couple chapters. But I'm back on track now. This chapter has to explain a lot of what has happened, is happening, and will happen.

I feel bad when I can't comment on your comments! I'm suuuu tired. It's 1:30 am and I want bed. Lol I promise next chapter I will comment on comments. (BTW my goal is to reach 200 reviews . (as in 30 for this chapter) kind of steep i know.)

Lots of bad things happening next chapter. I'm excited!

Oh god yes the title is a freakin beetles shout out. Best band ever! And yes I know it's "All you need is love" but it does say "love is all you need" in the lyrics and I like the tune during those lyrics the best. P

Disclaimer: Do you think JKR is a beetle's fan? Well duh!

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Fifteen: _**Love Is All You Need**_

_I'm having trouble understanding morality_

_I'm not doing so well with reality_

_What a shame it's truly a tragedy_

_It didn't work over time with depravity_

_I'll have to find another way around gravity_

_But at least I am not afraid of me_

_No, I am not afraid of me_

Tabula Rasa. A blank slate. That's what he needed. He needed a way to start all over with the girl. He hated her. She knew him. She knew his past and his future and therefore she could not easily be manipulated. She wanted only his destruction and yet he could not destroy her because of what she held inside of her. That piece of his soul that she refused to part with. What had his future self been thinking? Trusting a piece of his soul inside of a human who would not only be weak but also wish to kill him?

But all was not lost. He knew she felt an inexplicable connection to him regardless of the Horcrux. She had, after all, given him her virginity. And why had she done that? This frustrated him to no end. Why on earth had she given him something like that and willingly? Could she possibly love him? He felt a mixture of amusement and disgust at this thought.

Love. He did not understand it. The way people give themselves completely and fully to another is unfathomable. This act was inconvenient and hindering. People could only do it out of desperation. They must be so pitiful and incomplete that they rely on another to fulfill them. And what a pity that no one can be trusted so love often ends in heartbreak, leaving a person more incomplete and empty than they were before they started. Thank Merlin he was not like that. Love was an absurd concept. He valued himself too highly to get involved with an emotion such as _that_.

But Miss Granger, now that he knew her true name, wore her heart on her sleeve. It seems that she has loved and loved deeply in the past. But she is also cautious. She is levelheaded: brilliant. She was not the weakest woman he had ever met despite her wide range of emotions. She knew his future self. What a mess he must have put her through for her to hate and fear him as much as she does. And what a charm he must be putting on her now for her to give herself to him despite that.

Tom grinned. He couldn't kill her. And even if he could, quite honestly he did not want to. Not only was the information she had of the future valuable, she was also a very able witch. It was almost a miracle his potion she drank the night before had not killed her.

Tom frowned. An unwelcome and hateful feeling swept through him. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he had not properly constructed a potion. He had failed his task and had almost killed his Horcrux. This surely would have helped the girl accomplish her goal even if she had died in process. Who knows what kind of repercussions that would have on his future self?

Though he was certain… he had to find out exactly how she had come across his Horcruxes and what had happened to them all. All of them.

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Hermione drifted in and out of consciousness. She did not know for how many hours. She was vaguely aware of a weak, throbbing pain in her muscles. She ignored it, however, because sleep kept overtaking her and she welcomed it every time it did. Sleep was a relief from the reality she had the misfortune to be in.

Flashes of dreams passed through her mind throughout the night.

_She stood in a stone palace, overlooking a forest in a far away land. It was lovely. The carvings on the stone looked middle-eastern. _

_She was on wide steps that had a shallow stream of water running over them. The steps were thin and smooth. The water threatened to bury them but Hermione did not get swept away in the strong current of water that came. She rode the waves to the bottom of the steps and watched faceless others fall around her._

_She sat on a bed with a stranger. He was silent. He was tense. He was some sort of heroic figure. He wanted to talk business. She didn't. She leant her head forward and pressed her forehead against his. She lowered her lips until they were touching his but did not kiss him. She whispered something, brushing her lips over his and he claimed her lips. He kissed her hungrily and she sighed. His kisses grew fiercer and his hands began to roam her body, up her stomach and around her shoulders, just missing her breasts. Hermione couldn't breath. He was becoming too intense. She tried to pull away._

Hermione awoke with a start. There was something stroking her cheek. Her hand shot up to snatch it away and found it was a hand. The hand jerked out of her grasp and she turned in bed to see Tom sitting in a chair beside her, frowning.

"It's about time. I thought you had gone into a coma," he said folding his arms across his chest. Hermione scowled at this and tried to sit up. He moved immediately, forcing her back down onto the pillows.

"Don't try to move!" he ordered harshly. "You're still very weak."

Hermione frowned at him, panicking slightly. Her dream had felt real. Too real. She wondered insanely whether he had been groping her while she slept. But as she stared at him she relaxed. Of all the things he was capable of she did not believe he would do that.

However, she could not remember how she had ended up in her present state. She stared into his face as she tried to remember the night before. She studied the lines and curves, remembering them illuminated by a dim light—possibly fire from a cauldron. Yes, a cauldron. He had been making a potion… For a second Hermione feared that he had been successful in binding her to him like he had tried in Hogsmeade weeks ago. She felt a dull pain coursing through her body, especially in her hand. She lifted her hand to her eyes. There was a small cut along her palm…

Hermione's eyes widened as images of the past night flooded her mind. Memories of the pain… She made a noise of rebellion and sat up so quickly he was unable to prevent her. A shock of pain ran through her entire body and she yelped, falling back onto her pillows.

"I told you not to move," he sneered at her.

"Where's my wand?" she asked immediately. If she was trapped in a room alone with him she could at least be armed. By now she knew better than to trust his presence.

He gestured to the bedside table where it was lying beside her watch.

"Don't look so surprised. You're in no state to attack me anyway," he said casually, raising his eyebrows at her.

Hermione's surprise was replaced by anger at these words.

"Yes, no thanks to you!" she shouted at him.

"You consented to the ritual. You knew it was a risk," he said in a calm voice, though he looked rather agitated. Hermione continued to glare at him. He did seem rather uncomfortable. Hermione wondered incredulously whether he was feeling concern for her.

"I knew it was a risk but I didn't know you had no idea what you were doing!" Again with the trust. How could she convince herself to stop trusting him?

Hermione had hit a nerve. Tom stood up so fast his chair toppled over. He did not respond to her comment but only began pacing the room. She watched him move back and forth along his room. For the first time since she had regained consciousness she took in his present state. He did not look very well either. He looked as though he had not slept, his hair was falling in his face rather than being slicked back and he wasn't even wearing his tie. He was muttering to himself as he walked.

"I calculated every ingredient… I consulted the books… how could I have failed?" He seemed absorbed in this internal conversation.

Hermione sank deeper into his bed. So his only concern was for the fact that he had failed… his ego was hurt… he did not care that she had been harmed in the process. Hermione tried to stop herself but she felt hurt. She turned back on her side, away from him, reminding herself that Lord Voldemort had a tarnished soul and could not feel like she could.

Tom stopped pacing and looked at her, putting his error out of mind momentarily. He could feel her annoyance from across the room. That connection they shared was becoming increasingly useful. He stared at her for a few moments considering her. So she did care for him. Possibly even love him. He smirked at the idea. She loathed him, knew what he was capable of and what he would do better than he even did. Yet here she was pouting that she was not getting his attention.

But if Hermione were to truly care for him… he grinned at the idea… she would not betray him… she would loath him still but not leave him… she would help him become more powerful than before. Perhaps she could be manipulated. People with strong emotions so often could.

His path was becoming clearer and clearer.

He moved around to where he had been sitting before and righted his chair. The power plays were over. He sat and stared into her eyes, not blinking but holding her gaze. He saw he was making her uncomfortable. Good.

"Enough of this," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I was a fool to think I could do what no one before me had ever done. We will wait and see what can be done. For now you need to rest."

He took her hand. She flinched, shocked by what he had just said and afraid of his touch. He passed his wand over her cut and it healed. She stared at him incredulously. His only action after that was to kiss her forehead and leave her to rest in his bed.

Hermione watched the door shut behind him. A dread filled the room in his absence. Hermione could only wonder what he would be up to next.

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The next few weeks were quiet, calm, and casual. Hermione was able to finally catch up on the work she had missed. Riddle was keeping his distance, though he would speak to her during class, asking her advice on an ingredient or spell. Everyone seemed to be impressed with Hermione for this. It was rare that Tom Riddle ever needed let alone simply asked for advice on his schoolwork. The mutual consensus around the school was that Artemis Morgen was a genius to match Tom Riddle and that the two were undoubtedly still involved.

Christmas was approaching. Hermione, of course, signed up to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. She had nowhere to go. Tom did as well. Hermione knew what alternative he had. A strange feeling gripped her as she tried to picture him sitting among a group of orphans eating Christmas dinner. It just did not fit.

She was keeping herself ready, however, because she knew that with a majority of the student body gone over the break, Tom would have a perfect opportunity to pull whatever he had been planning. She had not gone back on her word to never trust him again. He was unnerving her. The student body seemed to have forgotten all about the suspicious incident of Hogsmeade and was just as enamored by him as usual. Even Caity still had a suspiciously dreamy look about her since she had run into her and Tom in the corridor several weeks ago. She wondered what sort of powerful charm Tom had used to wipe her memory.

"Artemis! You're staying here for the holidays?" Victoria asked her in the Gryffindor common room one day before break.

"Yes, well I can't go home since I'm a refugee," Hermione replied, sticking to her lie.

"Oh right," Victoria colored. "I'm sorry." She looked a bit awkward. Hermione was about to turn and head up to her dormitory when Victoria spoke again.

"Well, are you going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party next Friday?" she asked slyly. Hermione noticed the rest of the Gryffindor girls were peering up from their potions and charms books to listen in to their conversation.

"Oh- I—" Hermione had not been expecting this question. Of course Slughorn had his Christmas party. She had not forgotten the one she had attended almost two years ago. It had been a complete disaster of course with McLaggen. She had not really considered going again.

"Don't tell me Tom hasn't asked you yet?" Victoria asked wondrously.

"He probably just assumes she's going with him," Elizabeth suggested from behind her Transfiguration book. She was settled in the armchair in front of the fire. "Where do you suppose Dumbledore keeps going?" she asked, changing the topic.

"He's always being called away by the Ministry," a red-haired boy beside her mentioned. He was, Hermione had already figured out after hearing the boys last name was Weasley, an ancestor of Ron. It pained her see someone who reminded her so much of her old life. She looked back to Elizabeth with a heavy heart.

"He'll be the next Minister of Magic. Just wait," Victoria said proudly drawing the room's attention. He was her favourite teacher as well. The rest of the common room mumbled their agreement.

Hermione again moved to leave the common room. She knew what Dumbledore was really up to. It was only a matter of weeks now before he would face Grindelwald… and what it would cost him…

"Wait, Artemis!" Victoria called. Hermione stopped and turned again. "So are you going to go with Tom?"

"Why do you ask?" Hermione questioned suspiciously, eyeing her eager friends face.

"You seem to be afraid of him," Caity chimed in. Hermione turned to see her coming down the dormitory steps. For a fleeting and wonderful moment she thought that Caity might have regained her memory. …But no luck. Caity still had that dreamy look on her face. Her statement had just been one of observation. Hermione turned away in disappointment and pity.

"I don't blame her!" Elizabeth called out again.

Victoria rolled her eyes. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the girl standing in front of her.

"Victoria, would _you_ like to go with Tom to the party?" she asked bluntly.

Victoria blushed again.

"Well—of course no—I mean—he's your—" she stuttered.

"He's not my anything. If you would like to go with him then ask him," Hermione said coolly. She ignored Victoria's surprised face and the stares she was getting from the rest of the common room and finally made her way back up to her dormitory. She still felt weak from Riddle attempting to rip a soul from her body.

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"Tom, Tom, have you asked that pretty Artemis to my Christmas party yet?" Slughorn asked his favourite student. His office was filled with a half dozen boys, all gathered around their Potions teacher. Slughorn sat comfortably at his desk, gazing directly at Tom.

"No, sir," Tom said politely. A few of the boys around him grinned at each other.

Slughorn looked surprised. He leaned forward in his chair, causing it to groan under his weight.

"You can't expect her to just up and go with you, my boy! That is most ungentlemanly. You can't expect your charm and looks to get you everything, you know," and he leaned back in his chair once more.

"Well, I do also have my great brain power," he said charmingly, flashing a smile.

Slughorn and the boys grinned at this.

"True, true. You very well do. Ah, and so does she. It's been a while since I've let a girl into these social gatherings of ours but… I may need to reconsider that decision." Slughorn stroked his great mustache. "You know," he said to no one in particular. "I was considering inviting that Zupan girl into the group. The Head Girl. You know her, Tom," he said absentmindedly gesturing toward Riddle. "But she seems to have gone all loopy."

Riddle noticed Lestrange's eyes flicker in his direction momentarily before locking back on Slughorn.

"What a shame," the Potions Master continued. "That's the problem with today's ladies. They're so unpredictable. I'm not sure which of them to let in."

"I wouldn't mind you letting in that Victoria Zabini," Avery said grinning. Some of the boys snickered and laughed. Tom did not.

"Now, now," Slughorn said lazily. "If I only let in pretty faces we wouldn't have much brain power in our group would we?"

"That'd rule you out, Prewett," Avery snickered. All the boys laughed. Including Tom.

A shorter and heavier freckled boy scowled at them and sank back in his chair.

"All right, boys," Slughorn said, though it was obvious he found the joke amusing as well. "I think it's time for bed. Until tomorrow. And Tom," he said causing Riddle to cease his movement toward the door. "Do hurry up and ask Miss Morgen before someone else does."

Tom nodded at his professor and exited without another word.

Lestrange and Avery fell in step behind him as they made their way back to the Slytherin vicinity.

"My Lord," Avery began cautiously.

"Yes?" Voldemort replied without turning around or slowing his step.

"We were wondering, my Lord, about the girl—"

"What about the girl?" Voldemort said in a warning tone, still not slowing his pace.

Lestrange and Avery exchanged nervous glances behind their leaders back. Lestrange continued what Avery had begun.

"My Lord, we were wondering what her position—"

"Her position should not concern any of you," he said stopping abruptly and turning to face them. "It should not affect your loyalty or sway your opinion of my authority. Does it?" he asked dangerously.

The pair shook their heads fervently.

"She will be one of us soon. Do not let it concern you," he said finally, giving them the answer they wanted. And with that he turned and veered off down a separate hall toward the Head Boy's room, leaving his followers unsure whether they should feel relief or anxiety.

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Dumbledore was back. It was the last week before the winter holidays and castle spirits were merrier than they had been. Whether it was because of the holidays, the impending party, or the return of Dumbledore after his longest absence yet (he had been gone for nearly three weeks) no one was in the mood to learn. Not even Hermione. She still had not let her guard down but she could not help feeling at home among the decorations and Christmas trees that Hagrid (a much younger Hagrid) had set up.

Hermione gave the younger half-giant a friendly wave as he passed by her table, hauling yet another tree. He grinned shyly and waved back before carrying the tree to the head table.

"Poor oaf will be lugging trees for the rest of his life," she heard a familiar voice say behind her.

She turned reluctantly to see Tom standing behind her, eyeing Hagrid with mild contempt. Hermione felt her temper rising.

"No thanks to you," she snapped, not bothering to keep her voice down.

Tom raised his eyebrows at her and frowned.

"So he _does_ haul trees for the rest of his life," Tom said satisfactorily. "Tell me, Artemis, how long?"

"Long enough to prove to be a better man than you!"

"What are you talking about, Artemis?" a new voice chimed into their conversation. It was Victoria. "Tom did the school a great service getting Hagrid expelled. He _killed_ a girl. Haven't you heard?"

Hermione composed herself in order to not give anything away. She still shot angry glances at Tom, however.

"I heard that it was an animal that killed the girl. Not a wizard," she replied coldly.

"Well, if you can consider him a wizard," Victoria giggled.

Hermione was seeing red. She felt it best to collect her bags and leave before she was forced to repeat what she had done to Draco Malfoy her third year to either Victoria or Riddle. And it wouldn't be a good idea to slap Riddle in front of the entire school anyway. She grabbed her bags and pile of books and pushed past the two, Victoria eyeing her in surprise and Riddle studying her. Just as she was pushing on the double doors she heard behind her,

"Oh, Tom, I had something to ask you about this Friday…"

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And it was Friday. Due to the small number of students in the Slug club, the party was open to most students in their sixth and seventh year.

"It's not a party if you can see through the crowd to the other side of the room!" Slughorn called over the heads of his guests as a number of friends from the Ministry arrived.

"Shame the minister couldn't make it! I'm sure he would have loved to meet these ambitious youngsters. Longbottom! It's about time you showed up!"

Hermione noted that Slughorn had not changed as she made her way through the crowd. She had received a personal invite from Slughorn who insisted she attend even though she hadn't accepted any boy's invitation to escort her to the party. She had refused the number of boys that had asked her after Riddle had accepted Victoria's invitation. She knew that Slughorn had most likely asked her to come in order to put her in his precious Tom's way.

Hermione had to admit she was a bit shocked that Riddle had said yes to Victoria. She was curious of his motives. Had he known that Hermione would refuse him? Or was he trying to make her jealous. Maybe he just wanted to leave her alone for a while and try to get her to let her guard down.

Nice try.

And of course she wasn't jealous. She was not in love with the man.

As Hermione moved across the room she saw him and Victoria seemingly appear out of nowhere. Her stomach clenched. She cast her stomach a dirty look and tried to move to the opposite end of the room. An unwelcome hand flew out of nowhere and grabbed her.

"Miss Morgen! I'm so happy you decided to come. You practically crushed every boy's ego at Hogwarts. You're a tough bird though aren't you? No, no you didn't need to come with an escort."

...Slughorn. Hermione smiled politely though the smile was strained.

"And here's Tom and his lovely date. Well, Tom you certainly have the pick of a ladies," he gave a small bow to Victoria.

"Thank you, professor," Tom said quietly, though he was not looking at Slughorn. His eyes were locked on Hermione and Hermione's eyes were locked on anything other than the two people standing in front of her. She did not know why she felt so embarrassed. Maybe it was because she had been so flustered at her last Slug club dance. She noticed him eyeing her dress and blushed a little. He was bound to think she had worn green for him. Since she had come to this time period with no possessions of her own, Caity had lent her a spare dress robe. She was dressed in emerald green. She had decided to pass on straightening her hair since it was so short and had simply worn it up; allowing some curls to fall around her now flushed face.

Victoria was dressed in a bright pink. Tom was in elegant black robes. Victoria seemed to notice Tom staring at Hermione because she gave Hermione a fleeting smile and nodded to Slughorn before tugging on his arm. Tom nodded at his date.

"I think Victoria would like to dance," Slughorn chuckled.

Tom smiled and looked at Victoria expectantly, but Hermione could tell he would rather be anywhere else right now than here dancing with her. She felt a slight satisfaction at this. She cursed herself for it.

"I'll leave you two to your dance then," Hermione said with all the composure she could muster and left them to find better company. She could feel Tom's stare burning into her back.

"Artemis!" she heard a friendly voice call. Hermione spun to see Caity and her date walking toward her.

"Oh hello," she said in relief. "How are you two doing?" Caity had come with the Weasley. She began to wonder if Caity wasn't going to end up an ancestor of Ron as well.

"Oh, we're fine. We just arrived. It looks like a marvelous party so far," Caity said looking around the room happily. But when she looked back at Hermione her face was full of concern. "But how are you? I mean considering…" she cast a wary glance at Riddle and Victoria who were now dancing.

"Oh!" Hermione followed Caity's glance. "No, no don't worry. I'm fine. I even told her to ask him. You were there."

"Yes, but we didn't really take you seriously," Caity said eyeing Victoria with an annoyed air.

"Oh, don't. It's nonsense really. I don't want to start anything. Not over a boy anyway," Hermione insisted. "Look, why don't we sit down? I've been standing all day."

This was a lie. The truth was that Hermione had been having bouts of shakiness and weakness since Tom had experimented with that potion. She really needed to see a Healer about Riddle's potion. It had been too long for her to still be feeling the effects of it. But she did not want any questions asked. Perhaps now that Dumbledore was back she could see if he could do anything.

Caity placed her hand on Hermione's forehead.

"You don't feel warm, but you don't look very well either," Caity said, looking worried. She gave Hermione a quizzical look and followed her gaze across the room. "You really like him don't you?"

Hermione jumped and realized where she had been staring. She opened her mouth to deny Caity's claim but at that moment her vision began to cloud.

"I need to sit down," she said urgently.

Caity parted from her redheaded escort and grabbed Hermione's arm. She led her to the nearest chair before going off to get her something to drink. Hermione sipped on the sorbet lemon punch for a few moments before she began to see clearly again.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up. It was one of Neville's old uncles. Well, not old in this period. What was it? Artie?

"I'm Algie," he said offering her a hand.

"Oh, nice to meet you," Hermione said shaking his hand. "I've seen you around the common room. I'm Artemis." She was still a little surprised by the sudden introduction.

"I know your name. You're brilliant enough to rival Riddle and pretty enough to date him." He shot Tom a slightly annoyed look. "But I see you're not with him tonight." He smiled.

Hermione noted that he was nothing like Neville. Or at least not the Neville she knew. She smiled.

"Well, we just needed some air," she said sipping the last of her sorbet.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione was taken aback by the abrupt question. So he did seem to be a bit like Neville. But it was nice to have something so familiar when she felt so far from home.

"Sure, I'll dance with you," she said standing up and setting down her glass. She turned to him smiling and he took her hand and led her out to the dance floor.

The music was certainly different. It was much softer and more upbeat than the music she was used to. Perhaps "corny" would be the best way to describe it. But it was fun to dance to. More fun, actually, than her own time's music. Hermione got the hang of the dance steps and swung along in time with Longbottom. She wished Neville's uncle had passed on some of his talent to his nephew for Ginny's sake their fourth year.

It wasn't until her third dance with Algie that she realized that the sorbet punch would not be enough to keep her going. She began to falter as the fast beat played. Her partner noticed her drop in energy.

"Would you like to sit?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Y-yes," Hermione breathed. "I would."

She began to make her way across the room with Algie's help. She only made it halfway, however, before sinking to the floor. The crowd around her murmured and parted.

"Is she alright?"

"What happened?"

"Should someone get the nurse?"

Hermione could only hear the voices for her eyes were clouding over once more.

"She needs to go to the hospital wing."

"I'll take her," she heard Algie's voice say.

"No. I'll take her, Longbottom."

_Wonderful. Just wonderful._

Hermione felt a pair of arms encircle her waist and lift her to her feet.

"No," Hermione protested and tried to push the arms off of her.

"Don't be silly, Artemis. You need to see the school nurse." It was Caity's voice.

"N-no," Hermione continued. She feebly struggled against the chest that was helping her stand as her pulse began to race.

"You'll be fine, dear. Just go on with Tom. We'll save you some treacle tarts." That was Slughorn.

Hermione resigned weakly and allowed the familiar arms to lead her out the door and down the corridor. They walked on in silence for several minutes until Hermione was filled with dread.

"This isn't the way to the hospital wing," she said shivering.

"You don't need the hospital wing, Hermione," Riddle growled.

Hermione groaned. He was the reason she was feeling so sick in the first place and now who knows what he was planning. As he pulled her along another corridor she wondered if she could just black out and be spared.

They stopped and he pushed her gently against a wall to help keep her standing while he rummaged for something in his pocket. He pulled out a small vial filled with red liquid.

"Take this. It will help," he ordered and tried to place the bottle in her hands.

Hermione shook her head fervently. She had enough experience with his potion making in the past. The bottle slipped out of her hand. Tom growled and caught it before it smashed onto the floor.

"Hermione, you have to take this. You're sicker than you know."

He uncorked the vial and tried to bring the bottle up to her lips.

"No. I won't. Keep that… away…" she swatted at his hand and turned her head away from him.

Tom could not have her doing this. If she refused to take the potion he would be unable to do anything else for her and he would be forced to send her to St. Mungo's where unwanted questions would arise. And he could not let her die when she held something too important to him.

He stared at her in frustration and brought the vial up to his own lips, taking the potion and holding it in his mouth. He dropped the vial to the floor and used one arm to hold her up while the other hand forced her face toward him.

"What—"

He pressed his lips over hers and forced his tongue through her lips, parting them and allowing the liquid to flow from his mouth to hers. He gripped her tightly as she struggled against him, trying to refuse the potion. He held her lips with his until it had all passed to her mouth. He held her lips until she had swallowed. He held her lips until she had begun to respond to his kiss. They had not kissed for nearly over a month. Hermione lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders, allowing the kiss to continue.

Tom took that as a sign her strength was returning. He removed his hands from her waist and when she stood by herself he took her hands and removed them from his shoulders, breaking the kiss. He took a step back, wiping whatever was left of the potion from his mouth with the back of his hand, while watching her movements.

Hermione's vision had cleared and she was no longer shaking. She saw Tom standing before her watching her curiously and mirrored his action, wiping the excess potion from her lips as well.

As she watched him, her breathing became uneven. She wasn't sure what to feel about him at the moment. She hated him but he had claimed her in more ways than one. She had never been more confused in her entire life.

He held out his hand to her.

"Come," was all he said.

She stared at his outstretched hand with anxiety and wonder. She looked up to his face and his black eyes. Unreadable as ever. She took his hand.


	16. Helter Skelter

This chapter is now offcially the longest chapter. i did still want to write something so i'l have to include that in teh next chapter. it'll give me a chance to explain the ending of this chapter.

ThEnAmEsGiGi  
I will bring back Longbottom. Definitely!

Maeve18  
I'm flattered! I hope this chapter meets expectations.

hpfanf

Lol thanks. Well tom really wasn't all that jealous. He's arrogant enough to think his Horcrux would not want anyone other than him.

I had to explain a lot in last chapter and really organize it. it was definitely an organizer chapter. For me anyway.

Raven e Reminiscence  
I can't fit in the Victoria thing in this chapter so I'll tell you. He accepted her invitation because she asked him and he didn't want to look rude in front of the whole school, and also he knew Hermione would be slightly perturbed. 

Nerys  
Oh don't worry she doesn't trust him that much.

Heidi191976  
Thanks for reviewing!

blindfaithoperadiva  
This update soon enough? lol

Aoi Mitsukai  
Thanks. It's hard sometimes to keep them in character but I do my best!

maripas  
Danke!

michaela  
Well Hermione was still very sick from the potion he made her drink. So she was weak.

Svelte Rose  
Ah Hermione learned her lesson about using boys to make other boys jealous her 6th year.

-jellyacey-  
Thanks!

shedyourmask

Thanks for the review!

This chapter was so interesting to write. Lots of action here. Lots happening. Lots going on that I never thought I'd ever write. 0.0 grin 

**_Now I MUST shout out to homarusrex: http://homarusrex. Don't click the link yet! Ok if you can't click the link go to deviantart dot com and go to homarusrex's page and find her fanart titled "Harry Potter 1945." But not yet!_**

If you do a huge part of this chapter will be spoiled for you. But I must give that artist credit because I stole some dialogue from her fanart. It was simply too amazing and too perfect. I apologize to her and worship her. **kisses the hem of her robes **

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please no one be offended by my title. It was so appropriate I had to use it.

As usual please excuse typos. And thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: JKR loves the BeAtles. I can't believe I spelled beatles wrong last chapter!

facepalms

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Sixteen: _**Helter Skelter**_

_Do you, don't you want me to love you  
I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you  
Tell me tell me tell me, come on tell me the answer_

_Well you may be a lover but you ain't no dancer_

_Look out helter skelter, helter skelter  
Helter skelter_

_Look out helter skelter  
She's coming down fast  
Yes she is  
Yes she is coming down fast_

_--Helter Skelter, Beatles_

Hermione had taken Tom's hand that night after he had pulled her away from Slughorn's party. She could not explain why she did it and she could not explain how she felt about the man who led her back to his room.

She could not understand why she had settled into him on his bed and rested in his arms as he held her tightly and possessively and while he whispered into her ear how lovely she looked in green and that he did not want to see her dancing with anyone else again. She did understand, however, that Tom had not felt threatened by Algie. He was too arrogant and confident in himself to think that his Horcrux would ever look at anyone else.

By the time she had awoken the next day, the school was practically empty, the majority of students gone home for Christmas.

And this was when Hermione found herself entering into a perverse relationship with Tom Riddle.

She did not know what she was doing. She did not trust him in the slightest. He already had two possessions that would become Horcruxes. And she was sure he had at least already created the diary.

The fact that his soul was split in two was hard to ignore. It was increasingly hard to disregard as she felt the soul inside of her react whenever he drew close to her. It was no longer a physical reaction. Yes, her pulse began to race whenever she saw him but she was sure that pulse was solely her own. She had ceased to feel a double heartbeat within her.

No. Now the fragment of soul toyed with her emotions… it teased her conscious and played with her intuition. Hermione felt polluted. When she showered she would scrub her skin until it was bright pink. Whenever she wasn't around him she would focus her thoughts on books and schoolwork to keep her mind from wandering back to him.

But when he neared her, and she always knew when he did, her mood would either lighten or darken depending on his own. She was reminded of Harry's experience with this… but she had not begun to see into his thoughts. She was thankful for that. She had also grown better at Occlumency, able to keep him from penetrating her thoughts, which she caught him casually trying to do as they sat across from each other in the library during break. He had not tried to force any information from her.

But blocking out emotions was a different matter… not as easy considering that they were not only forced to spend time together but that they were also… intimate.

They had taken advantage of the nearly empty school. He would pull her into abandoned classrooms and kiss her fully. The first time he had done this Hermione had protested.

_Hermione was headed for the library. She might as well finish her charms essay while she had the chance. It was Christmas Eve day and she knew the few kids left in her common room would never let her work that evening. She rounded the last corner and had her eyes set on the double doors when she felt a hand grab her and yank her through a doorway. She knew who it was immediately._

"_What the bloody hell!" she shouted at him as he closed the door behind them. It was not as though she wasn't used to him surprising her but she was still flustered by it nonetheless. She pulled out her wand in case he was planning on trying anything illegal… as usual._

_He held up both hands in surrender, a grin playing on his lips._

"_I'm not here to fight," he said and approached her slowly. _

_Hermione did not put her wand away but eyed him suspiciously. She had not fully recovered from him helping her the other night at Slughorn's party. The memory of it made her brow tense and her stomach to contract in butterflies and confusion. _

_He neared her and did something that made Hermione's eyebrows shoot halfway up her forehead. He kissed the tip of her wand. Hermione opened her mouth in surprise and Tom took this opportunity to push her wand arm away and close the space between them. _

_He placed his hands behind her head at the base of her skull and brought her face closer to his. Hermione began to panic slightly. Why was he being so gentle?_

"_Relax," was all he said with a soft smile. And he kissed her causing her head to spin and her wand arm to relax. "Better," he chuckled softly into her hair after he had broken the kiss. _

_He lifted her onto a desk and continued to meet her lips with his, teasing her slightly before parting her lips with his and kissing her like he had when he had been trying to feed her the healing potion. _

_Hermione kissed him back, meeting his tongue and running her left hand up his back and into his hair. Her right hand was not able to join the left, however, because it was still at her side, gripping her wand tightly…_

-----------------------------------------------------------

Christmas came and went. Hermione was still waiting for whatever Riddle had planned. She was not about to lose her title as the cleverest witch of her age because Tom Riddle was a good snogger. She knew he was trying to get her to let her guard down. He was waiting for her to become so confused with him that she would be unable to defend herself against him.

The problem was… she _was_ confused. She did not know how to deal with a gentle and passive Riddle. She was used to him trying to force himself into her mind and heart. But now he was creeping into it slowly and twisting around it like Devil's Snare.

But she would not let her guard down.

The past few calm days had given her a chance to study and research Horcruxes. Hermione figured that since Riddle had already tried to extract the soul from her he would not object to her researching how to do the same thing. He would not let her do her research alone, however, and would follow her to the library whenever he saw her heading in that direction. He did not trust her anymore than she trusted him.

Hogwarts had a larger collection of books on the matter than Dumbledore had had hidden in his office. She wondered what had happened to them that they were no longer located in Hogwarts during her time. Perhaps the Ministry had confiscated them.

But nevertheless, Hermione had learned more than she had ever wanted to know about Horcruxes.

"I've already read over that. It didn't work remember?" Tom said looking at the page Hermione was currently reading.

"Yes, well, has it occurred to you that you may have missed something?" Hermione said coolly, turning the page.

Riddle scowled and returned to his book. It was not on Horcruxes. As a matter of fact, he had not shown any interest in Horcruxes since he had botched that potion.

Hermione peered at his book, annoyed. Shouldn't he also be researching how to separate her from the Horcrux?

Riddle felt her gaze and looked up. Seeing her disdainful expression he grinned.

"I'm not only interested in Horcruxes you know," he said tapping his book.

She looked down at the page he was on. It was full of diagrams of before and after effects of dark spells. She let out a noise of disgust and turned her attention back to her book.

"What's the problem, Artemis?" He asked in a hushed tone. "You act as though I am the only one at this table researching dark magic."

Her head shot up and their eyes locked—one pair filled with amusement and the other filled with loathing.

"There's a difference," Hermione snapped.

Riddle said nothing but only held her gaze with that same look of amusement in his eyes, until Hermione scoffed and turned back to her research of Horcruxes.

--------------------------------------------------

Over the next couple days, Hermione noticed Tom had become increasingly obsessed over a certain topic… genetics.

He traced family trees starting with pureblood wizards and down until he noticed them marrying muggles. He saw that in most cases the result was a child with magical abilities. He assumed that the magical gene was the dominant. In cases where the child had no magical parentage he wondered where the gene had come from. And in cases where two magical parents had a squib, he wondered how the recessive muggle gene had overtaken the dominant magic gene. He concluded that the only way this could have happened was due to intermarriage between muggle and wizarding folks and the nonmagical gene contaminating the blood of the wizarding community.

Tom often heard complaints from his peers about the increasing number of squibs and the also increasing number of muggleborns being admitted into Hogwarts.

"They'll dilute our magic!" was the most voiced concern. And Tom agreed with this to an extent. Of course his father's genes had not affected his magic. But who knows who his father's ancestors might have been. He may have had a squib or inept witch somewhere in his family tree.

The only person Tom could think of that was truly trying to do anything about the muggle mess was the Dark Lord Grindelwald. That uprising had begun in Austria.  
According to what he had been reading in the _Prophet_, Grindelwald's influence was slowly taking root and spreading. Whispers suggested that it was only a matter of time before Grindelwald reached England. And then who knows what sorts of Revolutions would occur.

Tom, for one, welcomed the notion of Grindelwald taking over the Ministry of Magic. It would be much easier for him to study the Dark Arts and rise to power. He also would be pleased to see the muggleborns cast out of Hogwarts.

So Tom poured over books of dark magic and genealogy. He wondered where Grindelwald was at the moment.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Tom?" Hermione asked quietly as she watched him hunched over a book on his bed.

He shot her an angry glance and she clicked her tongue.

"I'm sorry,_ my Lord_," she snapped at him.

He ignored her and continued to read the black bound text in front of him. He was sitting crossed legged on his bed, his brow tense in concentration and his arms resting on his knees. He did not bother with hiding his interest in the Dark Arts from Hermione. She had known what he was before he had even known her name and here she was. The most important thing he could do now was to keep her around him.

Hermione frowned at him. He was reading another biased book on muggles. She wanted to distract him. She did not like him studying family lines and cementing his hate against muggleborns. The more he did this, the more she feared he would discover the truth about her own blood. Besides, it was his birthday.

She would not have known it was his birthday if Slughorn had not announced Riddle's birthday was coming up on the 31st at the Christmas feast. Riddle had not seemed very pleased at Slughorn's proclamation but had thanked the professor anyway.

Hermione walked over and sat on his bed across from him. Her weight caused the mattress to sink slightly and the book to slide from Riddle's view.

"Do you mind?" Tom asked, snatching the book before it went over the edge of the bed.

"Yes."

Tom looked up at her. She was staring at him with an expression he had not seen on her face before. He knew what was coming and he did not want her bringing up his birthday.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he said sternly, trying to focus her mind elsewhere.

Hermione sighed. He was all business. She had to distract him. He may be trying to put her at ease but she had a plan of her own.

She leaned foreword and placed her forehead against his softly. He seemed a little surprised by this but did not move. He was tense. He sat waiting for what she was planning on doing next, wondering if he should guard his wand considering the last time she had done something like this.

Hermione lowered her lips until they were millimeters away from his.

"Happy birthday," she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

He did not know whether he did it to keep her from talking about his birthday or because he wanted to be in control of the situation, but he closed the minimal space between their lips and kissed her, pushing her back onto the sheets. A chill ran up his spine as she sighed.

Damn it. She still affected him. He had been manipulating their relationship successfully since that night he had tried to extract the Horcrux from her but she was still able to make him lose focus.

She pulled him closer, wanting to forget who he was for only a few moments. She had to give so much for he only had half a soul to give.

He broke the kiss and she groaned as he kissed her jaw and moved down to her neck. He had forgotten how much he liked doing that. He focused his attention on the space between her collarbone and neck, nipping at the soft skin and hoping it would leave a mark. He moved on, abandoning her neck and moving to the space between her breasts. He rested his head on the material shielding her chest from him.

Hermione moved her hands to her blouse to begin unbuttoning it but Tom stopped her, grabbing her hands and forcing them above her head. She scowled at his constant need for control. He gave her a charming grin and moved his hands to do the work he had refused her hands. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, teasing her as she tensed in anticipation under his hands. Finally her shirt was undone and he removed it from her body revealing a light green bra.

He grinned knowing she had worn that for his satisfaction. He almost felt guilty discarding it. Almost.

Hermione blushed. He had seen her topless before but he had never studied her like this. She watched his reaction, his eyes raking over her slowly. She wanted to touch his face but she knew he would only pin her arms down again. So she waited.

Tom was proud of himself. He had successfully gotten her to relax around him… she wanted to please him. That is not something she had done before…

He smirked and kissed her forehead before proceeding to kiss down her chest and to her breasts.

Hermione's body was on fire as he worked from one to the other, using his hand to make small circles on her stomach. Hermione squirmed as his hand worked its way down her stomach and under her skirt's waistband. She inhaled sharply as his hand found its destination. She had to grab onto something or she'd go mad. Her hands settled on the back of his shirt collar, gripping it tightly.

"Tom!" she gasped, her body tensing. He stopped his ministrations.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, looking up at him. He glared at her expectantly.

"Oh, Merlin," she said exasperatedly.

He slowly began moving his hand again and she moaned, pushing against him. He stopped. She groaned in frustration.

"Say it," he growled.

She never hated him more than she did then, but her lips parted…

"Voldemort," she said, clenching her eyes.

"Excuse me?" he asked cruelly.

"Voldemort!" she hissed.

And he went back to his work, causing her to squeal and throw her head back. She felt her muscles tensing once more as he drove her crazy. Her hands were in his hair now, not realizing how hard she was gripping. Her hips bucked as she shrieked out her orgasm.

Hermione tried to settle her breath as she came back down to earth. Her hands unclenched and she let them moved down to his shoulders. He lifted himself up by his arms and looked at her flustered state, considering her.

"Be ready," he said, kissing her cheek casually. "Tomorrow morning we're visiting Hogsmeade."

---------------------------------------------------------

Hermione was nervous. She didn't know why he was taking her to Hogsmeade. They weren't scheduled for a Hogsmeade visit but since it was New Years day, the teachers allowed whatever students had stayed at Hogwarts visit.

Tom met her at the Fat Lady's portrait. He probably did not want her trying to escape to somewhere else in the castle.

"Do you have a scarf?" he asked her, eyeing her attire as she climbed out of the portrait hole.

Hermione was surprised by the question but lifted he arm to reveal a red scarf draped around it. He nodded and began walking toward the Entrance Hall. Hermione followed, noting that his face seemed hard in concentration. She knew this could not be a good sign for her.

They exited the school and began their walk to Hogsmeade.

"Have you noticed Dumbledore is gone again?" Tom asked almost rhetorically.

Hermione nodded.

"Yes. He wasn't in the Great Hall last night," she answered cautiously. She knew where Dumbledore had been disappearing. She wondered if Tom did as well.

"I've been studying his absences. He is almost always gone right after the Prophet reports another attack led by Grindelwald," he continued as though he had not heard her.

Hermione could almost see where this was going.

"And where do you suppose Grindelwald is?" he asked as they reached Hogsmeade. "You can narrow it down to a country but after that…" he paused and grabbed Hermione's arm, leading around the Hog's Head as he had months before.

"To- er, Voldemort," she asked almost choking on the name. "What are we doing?"

Riddle didn't seem like he had heard what she had just said.

"After that you just have to go on rumours."

His face was hard. He was staring at the mountains Sirius had hidden in during her fourth year. Hermione could feel his energy rising. He finally looked down at her as though noticing she was standing beside him for the first time. He grabbed both her arms.

"Hermione," he began. "Is Dumbledore chasing Grindelwald?"

Hermione stared up at him silently. She would not encourage him. She didn't speak.

He narrowed his eyes at her but figured the rest.

"Put on your scarf," he ordered.

Hermione struggled out of his grasp.

"This is _absolutely _against school rules!" she snapped at him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck, putting two and two together. But this time she did not want to be left behind. It was very rare that Lord Voldemort even considered bringing company on a trip like this. And at least this time he would not be trying to force any potions down her throat.

He ignored her and grabbed her hand, turning on the spot.

----------------------------------------------------------

They appeared with a CRACK upon a snowy mountainside. Hermione presumed Austria. The scenery was beautiful but the wind was bitter. She shivered beneath her scarf. She looked at Tom to see his reaction to their setting. He still bore that same hard expression. He was determined.

He moved down the mountain, Hermione following suit. He was moving toward what looked like a Manor at the foot of the hill. It vaguely reminded her of the Malfoy Manor except this one was covered in a heavy amount of snow. Riddle took her arm and stopped her as they neared the gate. He eyed it with a calculating stare. A chill ran up Hermione's spine. The gate held the familiar triangle Harry, Ron, and she had struggled over for months. He began to walk along it slowly as though looking for something.

"Are you—" Hermione began.

He shushed her. Hermione scowled. She was going to ask if he was looking for a specific kind of guarding charm. She could help with those.

He seemed to find what he had been looking for. He pulled out his wand and tapped a metal spike twice, whispering something under his breath. The metal appeared to disintegrate and he stepped through it, pulling Hermione with him.

"How did you—?" Hermione began wondering how even Tom Riddle could have gotten past a fully realized Dark wizards enchantments.

"Dumbledore has already been here," he muttered, nonplussed.

Hermione froze.

"Dumbledore's _here_?" she said her voice higher than normal. "_We are going to be expelled_!" she snapped at him.

"Don't stop," he ordered. "It's not safe here."

Hermione gapped at him as they continued their walk. Perhaps she could explain to Dumbledore when this was all said and done that Riddle had forced her to come, that she had not intended on strolling into a Dark wizard's Manor that day. She did assume they were entering Grindelwald's Manor.

Tom reached the frozen steps leading to a side door. He furrowed his brow at the area and raised his want. A green mist protruded from it and settled over the entrance of the door. He raised his eyebrows.

"Either Dumbledore has also been here or Grindelwald did not think anyone would make it past his gate," he said walking up the steps.

"Dumbledore seems to be someone who would enter through the front door," Hermione said as the two of them slipped into the door.

They had entered into a corridor with a high, stone ceiling and red carpeting. They began to slowly move along the hall when they heard low voices from the floor above them. Tom looked up and then gestured to the spiraling staircase straight ahead. Apparently he had a plan.

He led the way as they climbed, hearing the voices grow louder. They reached the top just in time to see a cloaked silhouette enter a room that was spilling light onto the dark corridor floor. Tom grabbed Hermione hand and flattened them against the wall between two suits of armor, just outside the door. Hermione's mind buzzed with questions but she knew enough to keep quiet.

"Dies ist unser abend, mein Herren! Für diese Generation und für alle zeit!"

A strong voice filled the room. Hermione tried to understand the words. Tom's face was filled with anxious excitement.

"Heute, machen wir—" The voice paused. "Eh?"

They heard a blast and saw a flash of light emit from the room and brighten their corridor. Hermione jumped and reached for her wand, thinking they had been found. Tom tightened his hold on her, his wand already out.

"Wands away, gentlemen," they heard the voice continue in a thick accent. Hermione wondered why he had switched to English though she was grateful he had. "…It's nice to see you too, Albus."

"I wish it were under happier circumstances, Gellert," Hermione heard her professor's voice say. She shivered a little. She didn't know whom she would rather be caught by… Grindelwald or the man with the power to kick her out of the only home she now had.

"What happier circumstance than the eve of my Revolution?" Grindelwald replied, confidently. "Surely you've come to congratulate me… old friend?"

Hermione already knew the story… of Grindelwald and Dumbledore's friendship, of their plan for the Greater Good, of Ariana….

But Tom did not. He looked more than surprised. Hermione could almost hear his brain turning to make sense of the two men's conversation.

"It's true then?" their professor's voice continued. "Y-you have the elder wand?"

"Yes, for some time now… all we ever dreamed of…."

Tom was holding his breath. He had never thought Dumbledore could have a history with Grindelwald….

"Albus," Grindelwald said suddenly. "she was never meant to—"

"This is no longer solely about Ariana, Gellert!"

Hermione could hear the pain in his hard voice. She closed her eyes, the image of Ariana's painting coming back to her.

"Exactly! This is about so much more! Consider, Albus, the _Greater Good_!"

Hermione looked at Riddle. His body was completely still as he listened for Dumbledore's reply.

"…No, Gellert," he finally spoke. And this time his voice was etched with sadness. "This is not the Greater Good."

Tom let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. So Dumbledore would refuse to join the world's most powerful wizard? Well then he was a fool.

"Leave us, gentlemen," they heard Grindelwald say with disappointment.

Hermione panicked as she heard footsteps approaching them. She yanked Tom's arm, causing him to stumble slightly, but he would not move away.

"_Tom_," she breathed not even bothering to correct herself for calling him his hated name. "We have to move!"

He wouldn't budge. He stood up straighter as three men entered the hallway. Hermione froze in fear, her wand arm already clutching its most prized possession.

The men turned to see two teenagers standing in their midst. They shouted something in German and raised their wands. Hermione raised hers as well. Tom tensed but did not raise his wand. Apparently he was trying to make friends.

Before anyone had a chance to strike both Grindelwald and Dumbledore had entered the corridor. Grindelwald directed his wand at the pair like his counterparts but Dumbledore's eyes widened as he saw his students in such an unexpected setting.

Hermione saw both Grindelwald and Tom open their mouths simultaneously. What either was going to say, however, she will never know, for at that moment a long and fluorescent rope shot from the end of Dumbledore's wand and surrounded the three men, binding them together. They struggled against the glowing rope but to no avail.

Grindelwald took this as a sign that the battle had begun and the two wizards raised their wands at each other. Hermione saw Tom finally raise his wand but at that moment a great blast emitted from Grindelwald's, sending black light in every direction.

Both Hermione and Dumbledore reacted. Dumbledore had produced a shield, blocking the curse from Tom and Hermione. Hermione had done the same except her shield had appeared in front of her old Headmaster. She knew him so well.

Dumbledore moved next. With a swish of his wand the suits of armor Tom and Hermione had been hiding it came alive and charged at Grindelwald. Grindelwald made a violent slash with his wand and the armor exploded sending chunks of metal around them. This time it was Riddle who moved, shouting, "_Confringo!_" and blasting apart the heavy shards.

"Hermione, Tom, go!" Dumbledore shouted as he momentarily trapped Grindelwald in a freezing spell.

Hermione did not care what Tom wanted to do. Enough adventures with Harry had taught her to do whatever the bloody hell Dumbledore said. She grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him forcefully with her. As they reached the spiraling staircase they were thrown back. It had been blocked off.

Hermione looked back to see Dumbledore struggling against magical binds while Grindelwald advanced on them. Riddle seemed at odds with himself, neither wanting to attack his hero nor die by his hand. He gripped Hermione's wrist, trying to pull her away from in approaching man—trying to protect his Horcrux.

But Hermione forced her way around Tom.

"_Descendo!_" Hermione shrieked and Grindelwald was knocked backwards.

"_Deprimo!_" they heard Dumbledore shout.

The floor beneath Tom and Hermione shook and gave way, allowing them to fall through. Hermione caught one last glance of Dumbledore's white and furious face as he rounded on Grindelwald once more.

"_Glisseo!_" Tom hissed and the spiraling stairs they were about to land on flattened, allowing them to slide the rest of the way to the bottom floor.

Once they reached the bottom, Tom grabbed Hermione and ran back down the corridor to the door they had entered. He forced her through the doorway and ran behind her as they ran through the gate and away from the Manor. They ran through the deep snow up the mountainside until they had reached the spot where they had apparated.

Hermione held out her hand to Tom and they both spun on the spot, apparating once more behind the Hog's Head. Hermione sunk to the ground, gasping for air. Tom looked as though he would like to do the same, but he kept standing opening and closing his eyes as though he were trying to organize everything that had just happened.

Hermione shook her head and stood, turning away from him and heading back to Hogwarts.

"Hermione!" she heard Tom shout behind her. She ignored him and continued walking. He caught up with her.

"I'm going back to my dormitory to pack," she said in a scathing voice. "Or did you think we would survive that little battle and wouldn't have to worry about being chucked out of Hogwarts?"

"We're not going to be expelled," he said calmly, though she could tell he wasn't totally convinced.

They spent the rest of their walk in silence, Hermione to angry to speak, and Tom too pensive.

When they were finally inside the doors Tom motioned toward a classroom. He wanted to talk.

Hermione glared at him entered the classroom.

"What were you thinking?" she shouted at him, not caring who he was. "Did you think you were going to march into the castle and join the ranks of our current Dark Lord?"

Tom studied her for a moment before speaking.

"I was not expecting Dumbledore to be there," he admitted.

She stared at him disbelievingly.

"Then why did you still enter his house when you said you knew he had been there?"

"I had come too far to back away," Tom said coldly. "It had taken me months to even find where his Manor might be. If I left then I may never have had another chance."

"And now we may never have another chance to walk down these halls again," Hermione said callously.

"If Dumbledore loses—" he began, his eyes holding that same expression they had when he had first heard Grindelwald's voice.

"He won't," Hermione cut him off. "Grindelwald loses. Dumbledore defeats him."

Riddle's eyes flashed. He grabbed her wrist.

"Why did you not tell me this before we disapparated," he growled.

Before Hermione could respond the door opened and in stepped Albus Dumbledore. He looked shaken and tired. His auburn beard was covered in a white powder and his right hand was bleeding.

But he entered the room with authority, staring at the two of them gravely. He raised his eyebrows at Tom, who let go of Hermione's wrist. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw what he held in his hand… the elder wand. She glanced at Tom, hoping he had not prematurely picked up on the idea of collecting the wand. But Tom's eyes were locked on Dumbledore's. Hermione felt slightly relieved and focused her fear back on the thought of expulsion.

"Why," Dumbledore began, closing the door behind him. "did you do this."

Hermione felt deflated. She could not begin to explain to her professor the reasons for following Riddle into Grindelwald's Manor. She felt like the explanation would take centuries.

So she lied.

"It as my idea, professor," she said, surprising Tom. He stared at her curiously as she spoke. "I had guessed where you were going when you left Hogwarts for so long. It could only be because of Grindelwald. I- I wanted to help. I thought that I could—" Hermione's voice caught in her throat. She buried her head in her hands.

"Tom, is this true?" Dumbledore asked, though Hermione could tell by his voice that he did not believe it.

"Yes, professor," Tom answered. "I went along because I believed that she and you could use whatever help you could get."

Hermione looked up from her hands. She saw Dumbledore's blue eyes searching Tom's. Tom stared back at his professor challengingly.

"I'm afraid, Artemis," he said peering down at her over his half-moon spectacles. This was it. Hermione could feel tears coming. "that there is no punishment that could erase what has been done. House points seem dull and detentions would not erase what you two have now been through. I only give you this warning. I will be watching the pair of you much more closely."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore wondrously. No punishment? Well, perhaps she should not be so surprised. How many times had Dumbledore let Harry, Ron and her off without punishment for things such as this? But she had thought that with Tom…

She expected Tom to breathe easier now that he knew they were not getting expelled. She was surprised to see that he was not. He was staring at Dumbledore with a sort of tense anger that he seemed to be having trouble controlling. Dumbledore only stared back with an expression of disappointment.

"I must go to the Ministry now," Dumbledore said breaking the cold tension in the air. "I suggest the two of you return to your rooms. Better actually, would be a visit to the Hospital Wing to make sure nothing has been harmed."

He gave a little bow to Hermione and exited the room. It was only then that Tom relaxed.

"He knew," Tom muttered quietly.

Hermione stared at him with contempt.

"And you would have liked Grindelwald to have killed him," she said bitterly. "You would have loved to have joined him and helped him imprison every muggleborn."

Tom scoffed.

"Yes I would have joined him because Grindelwald was not afraid of power," Riddle said plainly. "What are mudbloods to me? They taint the magical lineage and deplete the magic bloodline."

Hermione's blood was boiling.

"So you would rather all the purebloods intermarry and _destroy_ the bloodline?" she asked harshly. "The only reason our magic is still so strong is because muggles and muggleborns give us fresh genes to use!"

"Not fresh genes," he answered fiercely. "Filthy genes. That is why those with no magical parentage are weaker, Hermione. They are mudbloods."

And before she realized what she was saying it was out of her mouth.

"I'm a mudblood," Hermione said with fire in her eyes.

Tom froze. He stared at her blankly as though deciding whether or not to believe her. But her hard expression and sparkling tears told him the truth. She was what she said she was. His eyes widened. He did not know how to react to her confession at first.

…But she was brilliant. Not an ounce of magical blood in her and she matched him in every subject… And he had touched her. He felt filthy. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to decide how to deal with the fact they had been touching the mudblood in front of him all day… all year…

But most of all… he felt numb to the idea that a container of a piece of his soul could possibly be anything but pure. His anger rose.

Hermione stood her ground as he approached her slowly. He was unnervingly calm though anger radiated from around him as he neared her. She glared rebelliously into his eyes. He grabbed her jaw and squeezed hard.

"So, little mudblood," he sneered. "What other secrets have you been keeping from me?"

Hermione jerked out of his grasp and turned away from him, throwing the door open and running down the empty hall. Voldemort followed her at a quickening pace. She was headed for the Hospital Wing. As she turned a corner he caught up with her, grabbing her by the waist.

Voldemort lifted her off her feet and jerked her into an abandoned corridor. Hermione tried to find her footing but failed, landing on her knees facing away from him. She tried to force herself up but her arms were shaking too badly to support her weight. She was exhausted from the day's events. The anger inside of her did not match her physical weakness. She rested on her hands and knees, waiting for him to strike next.

She felt him approach her and stop, but he did not make any movement.

"What are you waiting for, coward?" she spat at him.

He looked down at her, trying to regain control of himself. If only she did not hold a piece of his soul…

He lowered himself to one knee so that he was almost level with her. He grabbed the back of her neck to hold her in place. Hermione clenched her eyes and opened them, meeting his black eyes like she had so many times before. They were filled with anger, hate, and… hurt…

"It appears I have been too lenient with you, Hermione," he whispered threateningly into her ear. "I promise that will not happen again."

He squeezed her neck and Hermione feared he would try and snap it, but he loosened his grip and stood.

Hermione stayed where she was, unmoving and shuddering. She watched him walk away and realized it had been Voldemort who had gotten hurt by trusting her this time.

As she watched him go, a horrifying thought filled her mind… she wished she could comfort him.


	17. Power

I wanted to get this in before i leave on vacation to explain the end of the last chapter. happy new year!

And for the first time I give you… en media res! (a chapter that begins in the middle of a scene instead of with a long rant by Tom or Hermione. XD )

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Drink From My Cup

Chapter Seventeen: _**Power**_

_And it was like breathing light_

_Every breath I took_

_Fed the flame that burned_

_With such great intensity_

_That I swear_

_Fire flickered behind my eyes_

_And I understood what power truly was_

_And I was filled with inner strength_

_And courage_

Shaking, Hermione got to her feet. Once she could no longer hear Tom's footsteps she made her way out of the corridor and walked gingerly to the Hospital Wing. She needed something for her throbbing head. And the way she had landed on her knee when he had thrown her to the ground had not helped either.

She reached the double doors and entered, seeing the school nurse handing a pepper up potion to a small second year. She looked up.

"You look terrible!" was what she said as she saw Hermione enter the wing.

"Oh," Hermione said a little embarrassed. She could imagine she did look terrible. She had just come out of a battle with two powerful wizards and a psychopathic one.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll get you some peppering up potion in a jiffy," the nurse assured her soothingly and patted the second year on the cheek before exiting to her office.

Hermione sighed and sank into a chair. She wondered how many times she would have to visit this Hospital Wing before the year was over.

So now Grindelwald was defeated… Good. Now Dumbledore could spend more time helping her get out of the past like he had promised.

Hermione closed her eyes. She could not blame her professor for not giving her his undivided attention. He was, after all, this time's only hope against Grindelwald. Like Harry was in her time, the worlds only hope against Voldemort.

Well, Hermione had properly botched that up now hadn't she? And all for what? For curiosity? For the shame that a precious artifact would be crushed forever? And now that Hermione was here in this time… she could not figure out how to destroy the soul inside of her. What was worse is that the man she had been trying to kill for the past year and half… he was consuming her. She knew the Horcrux caused her to react to him but she felt as though she should not be feeling what she did toward someone who had threatened her destruction.

The nurse reentered holding a small cup of gray potion. Hermione took it from her and plugged her nose, downing the potion in one gulp. She felt instant warmth seep into her and appreciated it. Her hands had still been burning from the cold of the mountainside.

"Would you have something for headaches?" she asked hopefully as the nurse moved away.

"Don't tell me you're already studying for your NEWTs," she said frowning. "About this time every year I get students walking in here complaining about headaches and reciting potion ingredients as they wait." She shook her head. "It's a strain to your brain, that's what it is," she mumbled and moved back to her office.

Hermione wondered if she was going to come back, but she saw her return from her office holding another small cup of some translucent potion. As Hermione reached out to take it the double doors of the wing opened.

"May I speak to Miss Morgen alone, please?" Dumbledore asked the school nurse. She gave him a puzzled look and turned back to her office taking, to Hermione's dismay, the potion with her.

Hermione frowned.

"I thought you were at the Ministry," she said dully. Surely the Ministry would not allow their newly formed hero leave so quickly?

He did not answer, but only looked at her with his piercing blue stare. He waved his wand and a chair appeared. He sat.

"Hermione," he began using her real name. "I am sorry I have not been much of a help to you."

"Oh, no," Hermione said sitting up straighter in her chair. "Professor, I knew- I knew what you had to do. I'm so sorry—" but she could not finish her sentence. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She felt for him and everything he had lost and would lose.

Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"Do not cry for this old man. I have been through worse," he said though his voice shook slightly as he said it. "I have come to talk to you about the relationship between you and Tom."

Hermione looked at him with surprise. Surely he did not know about the Horcrux?

"I know you are close to him. He may be a great comfort to you while you are separated from your friends, but," he paused looking at Hermione with grave concern. "He is not what he seems. I am afraid he is going down a dangerous path and it would be better if you were not associated with him."

Hermione knew Dumbledore had never trusted Riddle. She felt a great comfort at this but still…

"Professor, he wouldn't hurt me," she assured him. She could not tell him why, of course, but she only wanted to put her old professor's mind at rest. "He can't."

Dumbledore did not seem comforted by this information. He looked at her more gravely still.

"You have grown attached to him," he said after a pause.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest. Dumbledore cut her off.

"Miss Granger please do not lie to yourself any longer. No matter how you may think you feel about this boy, you care for him," he said slowly.

Hermione felt as though someone had dropped a weight onto her chest. She was finding it difficult to breathe. Her cheeks burned as though Dumbledore were declaring that she had fallen in love with the man who had slaughtered many witches and wizards.

"And I must warn you that getting involved in relationships with dangerous men will not end well. It will only bring danger and heartache."

Hermione looked into her professor's bright blue eyes. They held something that she understood. _He_ understood. Something clicked in Hermione's brain. The reason Grindelwald's death was such a loss for him…

"Professor," she began, not knowing what to say.

He held up a hand.

"I only implore that you part ways with Tom. I do not want to see you in his company again." This sounded like an order.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment. He was forbidding her to not see Riddle? Did he realize what he was asking? She stood in frustration.

"I-" she stammered. "I can't stop seeing him, Professor! I can't explain!" How could she explain the future to him? How could she explain that she needed him to learn how to separate herself from his parasitic soul? Even now she could feel it winding its strings around her lungs, making it difficult for her to breathe. Or was that only her own excitement?

Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily as though he were trying to find a way to convince her why she could not be in Tom Riddle's company anymore. He opened his eyes and looked at her as though he could see through any lie she could tell him.

"You love him," he said simply.

A shudder ran through Hermione's body. Love him? He had treated her like filth when he had heard what she was. How could she love him? He had horrified her and abused her. He only had half a soul and not even that for much longer. He was a monster. As she thought of everything he stood for her anger rose.

_Mudblood_ he had called her. And for what? The bastard hypocrite. He had toyed with her and almost treated her as an equal. And that fell apart only because he had learned that she did not have pure blood? And he even had the nerve to be hurt by her?

His eyes flashed back into her memory. How could he have been hurt when she had been the one thrown to the floor and treated like filth for only the life she was born into?

She looked back at Dumbledore and opened her mouth to reject his assertion.

"Yes," was what came from her lips.

She gasped and fell back into her seat in tears, knowing that Voldemort could not and would never love her in return.


	18. Proud Lions and Prejudice Serpents

I'm pretty much exhausted but check back here in two days and i'll have responses to comments because i really did want to respond to comments. i hope you like this one! it took forever for me to write! I just updated it a fews hours after posting. The changes are extremely minor but still if you read it 5 hours ago then you'll notice some differences if you're reading really closely. lol

This picture done by Shinga reminded me so much of Hermione watching Tom at Slughorns party. http://shinga dot deviantart dot com/art/evening-gown-74491784. You can just copy and paste that and replace the dots with real dots. lol.

Disclaimer: JKR supports relationships between the courageous and the cunning. Oh look! I figured how to make a horizontal line!

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Eighteen: _**Proud Lions and Prejudice Serpents**_

_What it is _

_That enables you to hide it like that?_

_The pain must rip_

_And burn_

_Your insides_

_You never allowed her hatred_

_To make you bitter_

_While mine rests between my lips _

_Biting_

_And sharp_

_And now you're leaving_

_Like the rest_

_Maybe I will learn from you_

_In memory_

Furious, Tom Riddle made his way back to his room. He felt as if his anger would bleed out of every pore of his body. The crest on the wall must have realized his anger because as soon as he had approached it had flung open, admitting him without a password.

Even through his anger, Tom thought this was strange. Hermione and her blood were momentarily pushed to the back of his mind as he drew his wand and stepped cautiously into his own room. He raised his eyebrows. There were his death eaters, standing there. A mix of anger and amusement filled him.

"Back so soon from your Christmas holidays?" he asked sardonically, staring at the group of cloaked boys.

There was an uncomfortable shifting among them but a voice spoke up.

"We did not want to spend so long without the Death Eaters, my Lord," Mulciber said hurriedly. There was a murmur of agreement from around the room.

Tom raised his eyebrows and grinned skeptically at them.

"That is very touching," he said as he stepped further into the room. "But that is not why you have returned early and have broken into my room." He walked past each of them in turn. "Whose handicraft was that, by the way?"

"Mine, my Lord."

"Rosier?" Tom said with mock surprise in his voice. "Well, I had no idea you could control your wand," he sneered alluding to the time Rosier had nearly hexed Hermione in the library. "You must have been keeping your talents well hidden."

The boys let out a nervous chuckle as though no one found what their master had said funny, but no one dared react otherwise.

"So who will tell me why my loyal followers have all cut their breaks short and returned to Hogwarts? Or will I have to interrogate each of you?" Tom said raising his wand to eye level.

They all knew what he meant by "interrogate."

Lestrange spoke up.

"My Lord, we have returned early to see if," he paused, reluctant to continue. "To see if there has been any progress recruiting the girl to our ranks."

With the mention of Hermione, the fury Tom had been feeling toward her earlier slammed to the front of his mind. So this is why they had returned early. They had not trusted him alone with her for so long… they didn't trust he would be able to handle her… or himself…. His fists clenched and he had to lower his wand to prevent himself from spasmodically cursing the men in front of him. He had to remain in control…

The Death Eaters held their breath at this reaction, knowing this topic was a touchy one.

Tom turned from them and paced around the room, ignoring their exchanged glances.

Truth be told… after her recent revelation he had _no idea_ what to do about her. She was full of tainted blood. Yet he had been so successful as of late in controlling her. She had gone with him to Grindelwald's manor without protest, had stuck by his side throughout the ordeal, and had even made sure he had gotten out of danger.

But she was a mudblood. Something he despised. He wanted to tell his Death Eaters to give her hell, to torture her and hurt her for her blood… but he couldn't. He did not trust his Death Eaters to not take it too far. There was still the matter of separating her from his soul and until then she could not be harmed.

He reluctantly turned back to his Death Eaters.

"She's being difficult," he told them truthfully. "In time she'll come around. Just leave her to me."

Tom almost cringed at how weak the words sounded. He could not give them a better explanation than that? He shouldn't have to! But he felt the atmosphere in the room… the men were agitated and skeptical despite what their demeanor showed. That and the recent death of the dark wizard Grindelwald caused his anger to rise again. The mudblood was making him appear weak in front of his followers… He could not stand for that.

"Dolohov! Come here!" he barked at the tallest cloaked man.

The robed figure jumped slightly but moved toward his master anyway. Voldemort waited until Dolohov was standing directly in front of him before grabbing his left arm and yanking the sleeve up, revealing the unmarked, pale flesh of the forearm. Voldemort lifted his wand and pressed it against the skin, causing Dolohov to jump again in surprise. Voldemort ignored him and began to mutter an incantation in Latin. The five boys surrounding the pair were still in a hushed silence.

Suddenly, Dolohov let out a strangled cry. The wand on his skin was burning the flesh beneath it. Voldemort held his servants arm in a vice like grip as he moved his wand in a pattern across his forearm. The skin burned black as Dolohov tried to keep from crying out his pain. A green light glowed from the wand, lighting the Slytherin's faces: one frightened and one set in a hard expression.

Finally the pattern was complete and Voldemort removed his wand, turning Dolohov's arm to look at his handiwork. He seemed pleased with the result and tapped it a final time with the tip of his wand. The mark burned white and Dolohov gasped before the skull settled to a deep black. Voldemort unhanded the boy's arm.

"The Dark Mark," Voldemort explained, holding up Dolohov's arm. "This is my mark. It bonds you with me."

Voldemort released Dolohov's arm and he returned to join his fellow Death Eaters, shaking slightly and admiring the skull and snake now etched into him. The other men studied Dolohov's arm with impressed looks.

"How, my Lord?" Avery asked in an awe-struck tone.

"You will see," Voldemort said shortly as he lifted his wand again. "Rosier, step forward."

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Hermione retched into the wastebasket beside her four-poster. She gasped for air as she rose shakily to her feet and climbed gingerly into her bed.

He had been angry. He had been furious and Hermione had felt it. It began as a dull pulse and grew to a sharp pain that started at her core and shot throughout her entire body. She had no scar for the pain to concentrate. Blocking out his thoughts was one thing, but blocking out the pain was another. How had she expected Harry to do this?

She lay back on her pillows feeling a cold sweat against her forehead.

"Artemis?"

It was Victoria.

"Artemis, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Hermione said, her voice sounding hoarse.

Victoria entered the dormitory and approached Hermione. She stared at her curiously and placed a hand against Hermione's forehead.

"You don't look alright. Were you throwing up?"

Hermione nodded glumly.

"Oh," Victoria said lamely. She sat on the edge of Hermione's bed. She continued to look at Hermione with an odd expression as though there were something she wanted to ask but couldn't find the words… or courage.

"Artemis? Are you pregnant?"

"What?!?!" Hermione choked. She sat up in her four-poster. "Are you insane?"

Victoria blushed as dark as the Gryffindor scarlet.

"Well, you've seemed a bit- a bit tired. You collapsed at Slughorn's party and you spend so much time with Tom. You seem sore at him most of the time and he is so protective of you," Victoria said quickly.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm not pregnant. I can't be."

"Oh, you and Tom haven't…"

They had only once. _Months_ ago. Hermione couldn't believe she was having this conversation. It was so bizarre that anyone could not know what a twisted and sick bastard Tom Riddle was and could actually be talking about him in this manner. She didn't even know if she wanted to give Victoria an answer.

She turned her head away from the girl, indignantly. She felt Victoria move off her bed.

_Let her think whatever she wants… _Hermione thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry," she heard Victoria say.

Hermione looked around at her in surprise.

"Sorry for what?" Victoria hadn't _really_ done anything wrong.

"I shouldn't have gone with Tom to the dance. He spent most of the time staring at you, anyways," Victoria said with a strained smile.

Hermione blushed. So she had not been the only one staring at the party.

Victoria sighed and stared out their dormitory window. Hermione noted that she reminded her of a mix of Blaise and Lavender… very pretty, a bit arrogant, very girly, a bit gossipy, interested in a boy who wasn't hers, but still noble.

"He's all yours, Artemis," Victoria said finally, looking back at her. "Tom Riddle is all yours."

Victoria gave her a small smile and left the room, leaving Hermione shaking her head over how teenage hearts worked.

She got up from her bed and walked to the window Victoria had been staring out. The cloudless sky and rising sun gave the illusion of warmth outside as Hermione looked over the grounds. Riddle surely hated her now. But did he? She, of course, never expected his love, but the hurt in his eyes she'd seen after revealing the truth about her blood… Tom Riddle had not eradicated all of his humanly emotions yet.

Hermione watched the light grow and spread across the grass. He was furious with her but what would he do now? Remove the soul? He had already tried that and failed. He could try again but he would be forced to be near her and she knew that despite how he may act, she affected him.

Hermione felt filled with a new kind of courage. She knew that Voldemort might try and harm her, extract the soul from her, even attempt to kill her now that he thought her blood was worthless… but that seemed to encourage her. It was as though her true self had finally become visible since she had stopped lying about her blood.

…Since she had stopped lying about what Tom Riddle really meant to her.

Hermione closed her eyes but the light still flooded her eyelids, making her see a glow of red. Thank Merlin Dumbledore didn't know how true his accusations against Tom were. If he did he would have surely thought Hermione evil.

But hadn't Dumbledore expressed how he understood what it was like to get involved with dangerous wizards? Had he not said that it would only bring heartache? It seemed strange to think of her professor this way but if he had fallen in love with a dark wizard without even being a Horcrux then how could she be blamed?

Because surely it was the fact that she was a Horcrux that attracted her to him! Once that pestilence had been taken away she wouldn't feel for him. Of course not…

It was the soul after all that caused her heart to race whenever he drew near before. It was the soul that caused her to forget who he truly was. It was the soul that forced her to lose control of herself…

Hermione opened her eyes before any images threatened to invade her mind.

She could not be blamed for feeling what she did toward the future dark lord. Impossible.

She did not know what she would do. She did, however, know what she _had_ to do. She had to avoid Dumbledore. Hermione frowned at the idea of intentionally shunning her old and current professor. He had been nothing but helpful to her in the past. But she did not want to encourage him to send her back to her own time. She needed to remain here… Hermione hung her head. She had messed things up so horribly… Voldemort already had the locket; he knew small pieces of his future… things would never be the same if she returned to the future now. Not until she destroyed the Horcrux.

She had to destroy the Horcrux in this time or never return home.

Once she had destroyed it, the future Voldemort would be vanquished. Hermione found it odd that she had trouble connected the current Tom Riddle with the future Voldemort. Tom was certainly malicious enough, but he was still not the Dark Lord. It felt surreal to think that the skeletal figure Harry had dueled was the man she had given herself to. Hermione shuddered. She couldn't help but separate the two in her mind. Voldemort was pathetic. Tom was… intoxicating.

Hermione rested her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Once she had destroyed the Horcrux, Tom Riddle would still be here. He would not die, only his future self. So she would not be killing Tom. This was another piece of the puzzle that made it easier to separate the two.

Besides, she did not want to combine the two into one entity. Because the idea of loving the true Voldemort…

Even the idea of loving _Tom_… Hermione hated herself.

_It's only the soul!_ She snapped at herself.

Hermione sighed. She knew what she had to do. She had to give him space and then she had to allow him into her life again. She would destroy the piece of his soul.

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Just as Hermione had predicted, Tom had not tried to force himself into her path. Classes had started again and the school was abuzz with the idea that the pair had argued over break. Because of this Tom was getting more attention from the Hogwarts girls and Hermione was avoiding the Hogwarts boys. Apparently anything good enough for Riddle was good enough for the rest of them. She couldn't believe she had to worry about these sorts of trivial things _now_. At least she had her books.

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Hermione sat in the library as she had every afternoon since the winter holidays had ended with a book propped open in front of her and a quill ready in her hand. Tom had taken to visiting the library in the mornings. He really was going out of his way to avoid her. Hermione found this peculiar. Sure they had kept their distance for a few days before but that had been after she had stolen his wand in Knockturn Alley. All other times he had at least spoken to her during class to keep up appearances.

But now he did not even seem to care about that. Not only was he avoiding her outside of classes, but also he was not even looking at her during class. No wonder the entire school was wondering what had happened.

This was so unlike Riddle, to forget about his reputation for anything, that Hermione suspected he was encouraging the whispers with his behaviour.

She could only keep her eyes and ears open. But currently she was working on a potions essay. She was just finishing her first roll of parchment when she heard someone clear their throat above her. She looked up from her neat scribbles to find Algie Longbottom smiling at her.

"Oh! Hello!" she said politely, straightening up from her work. She grimaced at the soreness in her back.

He grinned.

"You really shouldn't crouch over like that. You'll end up looking like those old hump back hags muggles use to portray witches."

Hermione laughed and realized her face was out of the habit of making such a joyful expression as Algie sat in the chair next to her.

"I finished mine already if you need any help," he offered pointed to her potions essay. "Of course you probably don't need it."

Hermione was beginning to think he fancied on her. Oh well, he was nice enough to at least talk to. With Riddle avoiding her she only had the other Gryffindor girls to hang out with and she wasn't so keen on hanging with the girls in the first place.

"I only have half a roll left and I haven't even talked about the historical aspect of the blood-replenishing potion."

"Seems like you have a handle on it, then," Algie said and pulled the parchment out of her grasp.

"What are you doing with my essay?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at Neville's ancestor.

"I'm getting your attention on something other than schoolwork," he said and rolled up the long piece of parchment. He tucked it into her bag. "Come to the Quidditch game with me tonight."

Now Hermione knew he fancied her. She sighed and let a perplexed look cross her face. If she went everyone would be whispering about the fact she was there with Algie and not Tom. But of course she did not want Tom to think he was controlling her… especially not after the way he had treated her….

Hermione's temper rose and she looked at Algie.

"Ok. Let's go." she said a little more forcefully than she should have.

He raised his eyebrows at her but he was grinning.

"Well, it's not for another couple hours so I'll just meet you in front of the Fat Lady then, alright?" he said standing.

Hermione forced a smile and nodded.

"I'll see you then."

------------------------------------------------------------

At a quarter till, Hermione wrapped a scarlet scarf around her neck and made her way down the spiraling dormitory staircase. Algie was already waiting by the portrait hole. He waved to her and pushed open the portrait so she could step through in front of him.

Hermione was glad that for once the boy she was being escorted by was not trying to terrify or bully her. What a dramatic difference. They walked the way to the Quidditch pitch talking merrily of who was most likely to win: Gryffindor or Slytherin. It was one of the most pivotal games of the season so naturally everyone would be there to watch. In the stands, they were surrounded by scarlet and gold flowers and roars of papier-mâché lions come to life.

On the other side of the field the Slytherins had charmed green and silver streamers to fly through the air like long, winding snakes. Hermione watched as one silver streamer flew into the air and danced around a particular Slytherin's head. Their eyes met. Hermione felt her stomach plummet and looked away quickly before Algie could notice where she was staring. She turned back to him just as he was slipping a scarlet flower into her hair. This distracted her from Tom momentarily and she smiled, mirroring his gesture and grabbing one of the falling scarlet carnations to pop into his coat's front pocket.

Then Hermione heard the crowd roar and looked down at the pitch to see the players walking onto the field. She almost started looking for Harry's wild black hair but caught herself. A sudden surge of homesickness hit her as the game began. She had never cared for Quidditch like Harry and Ron but the game brought back memories of happier times on this field.

She managed to cheer through the game satisfactorily though her heart was not as in it as it was before the game began. She wanted badly to see familiar faces.

The game was close. Slytherin had taken an early lead but Gryffindor's Chasers were some of the best in years. They caught up soon enough and the score was neck and neck until the Slytherin Seeker suffered a bludgeon from a bludger. This left the Gryffindor Seeker the perfect opportunity to grab the snitch and end the game. The stands were in primarily good spirits as the game ended.

All except for one section. The Slytherin's departed quickly, followed by the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors took a little longer to clear the stands due to their celebrating. They all insisted they wait for the team to exit the changing rooms and lead them back to their common room in style.

So wait Hermione did with Algie until the seven players exited the locker rooms. Hermione cheered along with the rest as they moved back toward the school. But just as she was moving away from the changing rooms she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She knew whom it was before she even turned around.

"A word?" he asked her as she turned to look at him.

She frowned. She knew that this would be more than "a word."

"Alright there, Riddle?"

It was Algie. He had stopped proceeding with the crowd of Gryffindors and had walked back to Hermione's side. He looked at Tom with an obviously fake smile.

"I'm fine, Longbottom," Tom replied, not smiling. "I was wondering if I could steal Artemis for a moment."

Algie looked as though he would have rather gone werewolf hunting in the forbidden forest. He stopped smiling.

"I don't know, Riddle," he said with an edge to his voice. "I suppose that's up to her."

"Yes, it is," Tom said in the same tone as before. "Well, Artemis?" He looked at her with his usual expressionless gaze.

Hermione looked between the two boys. She had told herself that as soon as he had been given space she had to let him back into her life.

"Ok, Riddle," Hermione began, addressing Tom like Algie had. "You can talk."

She could feel how angry that made him though it hadn't shown on his face. He looked at Algie expectantly.

"I'm not going anywhere," Algie said defiantly.

Hermione could feel Tom's anger burn inside her.

"Algie," she said as calmly as she could. "It's ok. Just go back up to the school. I'll meet you there."

Algie looked as though he wanted to argue but she pleaded with him with her eyes. He finally nodded and shot Riddle a bitter grin that was more like a sneer before turning and following the group of Gryffindors who were already to the castle steps. Tom returned the smile. Slytherin had won tonight.

Hermione watched Algie shrink into the distance before turning back to Tom. She looked at him with a mix of apprehension and annoyance.

"That was pathetic," she said looking at him with disgust.

"It's cold," he said ignoring her. "Let's continue this in there." And he made to move toward the Slytherin changing rooms.

"Oh no," Hermione said forcefully. "We're closer to the Gryffindor changing rooms. There's no reason why we can't discuss whatever is on your mind in here." And she pushed past him and walked into the changing rooms she had just been waiting outside of.

Tom followed her reluctantly. Hermione settled herself on a bench and undid her scarf and coat. She looked up to find him standing in front of her, his fists and jaw clenched tightly.

He looked beyond angry. He looked… disconcerted. Hermione's hard and apprehensive expression changed to one of curiosity. She had never seen him like this before.

"First of all," he began, his voice low. "Where did you get the idea you could see that pathetic excuse for a wizard when I had told you I did not want to see you with him again?"

Hermione knew he would be angry about Algie. She knew he would not approve of her spending time with anyone who had any interest in her. But it did not matter.

"I can be friends with whoever I want, Riddle," she said defiantly.

"He doesn't want to be your friend," Tom sneered.

"Well, neither do you," Hermione said smartly. She was surprising herself with every word she spoke, reminding herself of Harry and his reckless words.

Tom was breathing heavily. He was certainly having trouble controlling his temper.

"So I suppose I'm friendless," she said testing his boiling point.

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. He still looked tense and angry but an unnatural smirk crept across his face.

"So then," he began. "It's true what they say. All mudbloods are whores."

Hermione rose to her feet, losing her cool.

"What do you care what I do now anyway?" she asked him furiously. "Now that you think I'm filth?"

"Because I told you not to go near him," he said pacing in front of her; pleased she was getting worked up. "And I cannot have what is mine, filth or not, whoring herself around."

She slapped him hard across the face.

His eyes flashed and he advanced on her and grabbed her wrists. His hands burned her skin in his anger but she had to stay focused.

"Let go, Riddle!" she shouted at him, refusing to call him Voldemort. She brought her hands together forcefully, smashing his thumbs together, loosening his grip, and allowing her to pull away.

She turned away from him as he massaged his now sore thumbs and planned to leave the locker rooms. She made it a few steps before he grabbed hold of her arm and spun her around to face him, the scarlet carnation falling from her hair. He wore an expression Hermione had never seen before. She was so used to his unreadable stare that she was momentarily thrown off. He looked angry to say the least. But there was also a sort of desperation on his face.

"Listen to me, you stupid mudblood!" he spat at her.

Hermione pushed him away forcefully, dropping her wand in the process. It rolled across the floor deeper in the locker room. She hurried after it and scooped it up.

Tom was right behind her. She felt his hand on her shoulder and for Merlin knows why she stopped and turned to face him. He nearly collided into her.

"Don't call me a mudblood!" she snapped at him, tears falling down her cheeks.

He didn't answer but met her glare with his own. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.

"Hermione," he said roughly, closing in the space between their bodies. She stiffened and looked away from him.

He placed a hand on her cheek and turned her head toward him, her tears falling over his hand. She looked into his black eyes.

She glared at him as she watched his tense expression study her face.

He didn't care for her. She was only a vassal he kept his precious possession in.

He placed another hand on the small of her back and moved the hand on her cheek around to the back of her head.

"Stop it," she demanded. She did not like him looking at her that way. He had no idea what that did to her.

With the same tense expression covering his features, he lowered his face centimeters away from hers but then pulled away. Hermione held her breath, her tears ceasing. He repeated this gesture, coming close to her face but pulled back slightly. Hermione realized he was having trouble deciding whether or not to kiss her. He certainly seemed like he wanted to. Well, she would not meet him halfway. He would have to kiss a mudblood on his own accord.

He lowered his face a third time and lingered there momentarily before finally meeting her lips. Hermione did not kiss him back. He would have to do all the work.

He kissed her gently, playing with her hair on the back of her head as he did so. Hermione felt him grip the material covering the small of her back tightly. She softened when she realized he was shaking slightly. Hermione was surprised. It was as though this was their first kiss.

In a way it was… it was the first kiss they shared with Hermione's true identity fully known. She was a muggle-born…

…and he was still kissing her as though he needed her.

Tom gripped her tightly as his kiss hardened. He pushed her against a nearby wall. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily and buried his face in her neck. Hermione closed her eyes and moved her hands down his chest, frowning.

"_No_," Hermione said fiercely, pushing his chest. "You've manipulated me, tortured me, used me, and thrown me away because of my blood," she accused.

He had to stop this. He could not repeatedly manipulate her and treat her like this. He had to stop.

He didn't say anything, but he looked disheveled.

"Well," she snapped untangling herself from his grasp. "Does Lord Voldemort have _anything _to say in his defense?"

"No," he stated simply, seeming to regain some composure. "I do not need to defend myself. You are too naïve to understand."

Tears had returned to Hermione's face.

"Or do you not need to defend yourself to a stupid mudblood?" she asked scathingly.

He cringed. Good. She wanted him to be uncomfortable.

"Your blood is something I will have to overlook," he said darkly. "You are my Horcrux and—"

"Oh! So you are forced to have contact with me because _I'm a Horcrux_?" she asked furiously. "If I didn't hold a piece of your soul I would be just as expendable as any other muggleborn?"

He stared at her, knowing they both knew the answer already.

Hermione choked back a sob.

"How can you even judge me by my blood when you're a half blood?" she asked, boldly trying to get a rise out of him.

He stiffened and looked at her incredulously as though he could not believe she would dare mention something like that to him. He clenched his jaw as he tried to control himself.

But Hermione did not want him to control himself. She wanted to hurt him.

"You think I don't know you killed your muggle father? And that you look just like him?"

Tom's eyes flashed red. How dare she speak to him of these things? How dare she mention his filthy muggle father? Hatred and shame burned in him as he pulled out his wand at pointed it at the witch in front of him.

"Tom Riddle. Your fathers name."

"_Crucio_!" he snarled, but she was ready for him.

"_Protego_!" she shouted and the spell ricocheted away from her.

"Shut up!" he spat at her, his face contorted in rage. "Don't say that name to me!"

"You're weak!" she said ignoring him. "You can't even accept who you are!"

He shouted a spell Hermione did not recognize. It flew at her but "protego" did not block it. It hit her square in the chest and she was overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo. The room spun and she struggled to stay on her feet as she moved away from him. She heard Tom say something else and felt her wand leave her hand.

Tom was to her in a few short steps. He grabbed the front of her shirt right before she toppled over a bench.

"Don't," He shook her violently. "Talk about what you don't understand," he growled through clenched teeth. "I know who I am! I am the heir of Slytherin!"

Hermione's insides were burning. She felt his anger tearing through her body like angry serpents. But she still opened her mouth to speak.

"Oh, yes," she said with as much strength as she could. "'Enemies of the heir beware!'"

He threw her roughly and Hermione felt her back hit a wall. She heard a burst and a stream of hot water began magically pouring over her. She had fallen into a shower stall.

Hermione felt the dizziness leave her as the water fell and her vision began to refocus. She saw through the water that Tom's face had grown pale and was filled with more emotion than she had ever seen in him before. She rose to her feet, using Occlumency to the best of her ability to block his anger out of her mind.

He shed his coat and stepped into the shower pushing her back.

"You seem to be having trouble taking me seriously," he sneered at her. He grabbed her left arm and lifted it above her head, pinning it to the shower wall so that her forearm was facing him. His fingers were entwined with hers in an almost intimate act. She could feel his ring—his other Horcrux.

"Perhaps you need a mark to remind you who I really am?"

He lifted his wand and pressed it sharply against her forearm.

Hermione froze, the anger leaving her face. The Dark Mark. That was too real. She did not struggle against him but met his challenging gaze with a look filled with trepidation. She had told herself before she would become a Death Eater if she must….

They stared at each other as the water rushed over them, each waiting for the other to act or to protest. Neither moved.

"Who am I?" he asked dangerously.

Hermione looked into his red eyes.

"Voldemort."

The tip of Voldemort's wand seared Hermione's skin and she let out a cry of pain as she writhed against him.

He stopped and watched her. She was shaking. Her eyes were clenched shut and her head was turned as though she were resigned in accepting the mark. She was not going to protest.

Tom lowered his wand, triumph in his eyes. He would not give her he mark today. He would wait and make her ask for it.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at Tom. He was smirking at her. She glared at him. How dare he smirk at her after everything she had said to him?

He released her arm and she lowered it gently, watching him suspiciously. He was going to walk away thinking he'd won this?

"I hate you," she said spitefully.

He tensed and pinned her back against the wall, kissing her fiercely and biting her lip. Hermione let out a squeal of protest. He grabbed the soaking material at her waist, pulling at her shirt. She slapped at his hand and he responded by lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist, slamming her into the wall. The force caused Hermione to break the kiss. She struggled against him and heard him groan.

That groan sent shivers up Hermione's spine. Gasping for breath Hermione realized he wasn't in as much control as he thought he was. Testing her theory, she began to slowly work her hips against his. His palms were pressed against the wall behind her while her hands were wrapped around his neck. He mimicked her motions with his hips and she arched into him, gasping.

He kissed along her jaw as he slid her wet skirt up. She stopped her movements and he groaned again, looking up to see what was wrong.

Hermione looked into his face. His eyes had returned to black and were looking at her intensely. He certainly had gotten over her being a mudblood pretty quickly. She kissed his neck, drinking the streaming water from it as he gripped her tightly in anticipation.

Gryffindor had won tonight.


	19. Blood Treason

Happy Independence to Kosovo! Kosovo is above Albania (which we know is Voldemort's favourite vacation spot :) ) and has just declared it's independence from Serbia! A very good friend of mine is Kosovar. yaaay!

CullenBurlesqueHepburn  
2008-02-16  
ch 18,

thanks!

FeyWhyte  
2008-02-14  
ch 18,

Danke. I do love it when people review.

StarzAngelus  
2008-02-13  
ch 2,

At least she doesn't have to pretend anymore! Yay!

ShinketsuKarasu  
2008-02-09  
ch 18,

Lol no mark yet!

Ankoku Dezaia  
2008-02-05  
ch 18,

This pairing is particularly forbidden. Which means good. lol

baramsori  
2008-02-04  
ch 17,

Lol thanks. It's really the Horcrux that's got Hermione all confused.

As for her trying to kill herself… that's incredibly OOC and I don't think I'll ever have her do that. Though you'll probably be more pleased with her actions in this chapter.

inappropriate-name  
2008-02-03  
ch 18,

Lol thank you! I didn't get too many reviews for my last chapter and I'm not the most reviewed tom/Hermione fic writer out there but I do enjoy writing them!

rachhulk  
2008-02-03  
ch 18,

God I love it too. lol

dreamofdesire  
2008-02-03  
ch 18,

Muaha! Tom riddle does not love! Which is why I love him.

Maeve18  
2008-02-03  
ch 19,

Hee. Thanks. I love reviewers!

Nerys  
2008-02-03  
ch 19,

I'm so glad I can always count on you! Lol. Yeah no dark mark yet. Not quite.

Ooo look an update! I hope I get more reviews this chapter. I deleted my author's note so the fic said I still had 18 chapters though if you included the authors note it would have read 19. but now it's 19. I hope you enjoy this one! It's another one of those where I wanted to write more but can't just yet. And holy crap… I do something new. Like… holy crap. blushes

Disclaimer: I do use quotes directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows from the Chapter The Muggle-Born Registration Commission. You will see when you get there. It's in italics anyway.

* * *

Drink From My Cup

_Chapter Nineteen_:_** Blood Treason**_

_What is power?_

_Could it be the opposite of love?_

_No._

_If love is all then it must encompass power._

_Power must be the opposite of freedom_

_Which is also a part of love._

_And so to know power must be to not know freedom_

_To understand love is to understand freedom_

_Likewise, to understand love is to understand power_

_But to understand power is not to understand love_

_And who could possibly understand love?_

* * *

Hermione liked the amount of control she seemed to exert over Tom Riddle. She could make him forget his tasks with a simple movement. He seemed to be as weak as any other teenage boy when it came to sex. 

But Hermione didn't feel much stronger. Tom kept her pinned against the shower wall as he bit her neck fiercely. Hermione had one arm wrapped around his neck to steady herself as the other crept between them and down his chest. As her hand moved past his sternum it brushed something hard through his shirt. Hermione's fogged mind cleared partially as she realized he was wearing the locket. Tom must have noticed her hand had paused momentarily because he stilled his movements and pulled (to Hermione's dismay) away from her neck.

His dark eyes looked at her calculatingly and Hermione's eyes widened with apprehension. Her fixation with the locket had allowed him to regain some focus. He cursed himself inwardly and lowered her so her feet were touching the shower floor. By now the shower had shut itself off, most likely to preserve water.

Tom seemed to be coming to grips with himself. Hermione watched as he closed his eyes trying to will himself not to take her. He wanted to exert some sort of power over her but he did not want to lose control over himself. The last time they had slept together it had been so obvious, at least to him, that he had lost control… he could not let that happened again. Especially not now that he knew about her blood…

Tom tried to convince himself that while kissing her was permissible because it allowed him to manipulate her, shagging her against a shower room wall was not.

Hermione was breathing heavily as she too tried to remind herself of the various reasons she should not fuck Tom Riddle.

It was hard for either of them to remember, however, while the evidence of his arousal was pressed into her stomach.

Tom was furious that it was a mudblood that excited him like this. And she was standing in front of him so confidently… he would have to fix that. Tom's eyes met hers as he seemed to decide something. She still owed him after all…

He pressed a hand on the crown of her head, forcing her to her knees in front of him. Hermione struggled momentarily, not sure what he was trying to do until her knees hit the floor painfully.

She looked up at him angrily. Did he really expect her to do something like this? Like his little mudblood whore?

"Come now, Hermione," he said trying to sound cool, though his voice was hoarse. "If I remember correctly, the last time we were in a situation like this I did all the work. It's your turn."

Hermione realized he was right. But she did not want him to think he could control her. Now he would know how it felt when someone else was doing the work. She lifted her hands to his belt and began to unbuckle it. He tensed and Hermione was filled with a sense of power that he had not realized she would feel. She carefully undid the button of his pants and zipper, pulling them down and gripping him cautiously. He jerked slightly and she felt a sort of vindictive satisfaction. She wasn't sure what to do exactly, but she would have to make do…

She clenched her eyes and proceeded to close her mouth around him. She heard a sharp intake of breath above her and she knew she was doing it right so far. She took him farther into her mouth and she heard him groan and felt him shift and place his hands against the wall behind her. She continued licking shyly where she thought he would like best and was met with a growl of approval.

Hermione took him as deep as she could without gagging before pulling back again. She could tell he was trying very hard to restrain himself from plunging into her mouth and choking her. Hermione decided that she liked this. She moaned as she slid him into her mouth again, which caused him to give a little cry of pleasure and buck forward slightly. He grabbed her hair with one hand, forcing her to repeat the gesture. She complied until he finally could not hold back any longer.

He let out an incoherent noise and came in her mouth. Hermione did not know what to do so she swallowed before pulling away from him, gasping for breath. She licked her lips, rising to her feet between his arms.

He stood there breathing heavily with his eyes closed. She watched his expression. He seemed as vulnerable as he had when she had called him a half blood. Only less angry.

She kissed him gently and he opened his eyes. He pulled away from her and righted his clothes. He still seemed frustrated.

"That's one thing we know your kind is good for," he said sneering at her. "I may have you do that more often."

His words stung but Hermione held her tongue, not wanting to provoke him.

"Good thing we're back on speaking terms," he said moving out of the shower stall and pointing his wand at his robes. Steam shot out of it and his robes dried up. He gave her a haughty glance before turning to leave. "I'll see you in class."

Hermione waited until he was gone before retrieving her wand from the locker room floor and drying her own robes.

She exited the locker room feeling slightly more confident knowing that Tom Riddle couldn't stay away from her and she may have more control than he'd like.

However, as she walked back up to the castle she felt a sense of dread. She should not be feeling so happy after pleasing the Dark Lord, nor should she want to do it again…

She was growing too attached to the world she had been forced into…

* * *

"_They're frightened, they think I might not come home—"_

"_Spare us," Spat Yaxley. "The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies."_

A dim, circling silver glow lit up the face of Lord Voldemort's Death Eater. As the glow made it's way around the figures a giant toad-like face came into view…

The toad croaked and the woman before her shuddered.

_"T-took?" sobbed Mrs. Cattermole. "I didn't t-take it from anybody. I b-bought it when I was eleven years old. It—it—it—chose me."_

The toad woman laughed and leaned toward the woman. A golden necklace swung from beneath her clothes. Hermione felt a pull toward it, desperation to seize it…

_"No," said Umbridge, "no, I don't think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch."_

Hermione jumped. Umbridge's huge mouth was now grinning in her direction.

"_You are not a witch,"_ she repeated. The glittering necklace only shown more brightly in the pale silver glow.

Hermione was rooted to the spot.

_"You are not a witch."_

The locket began to rise and levitate around Umbridge's face. It grew and opened, a long smoky serpent unwinding itself from the depths. The serpent went toward the shaking woman first.

"NO!" Hermione shrieked but she could not move. Her limbs were too heavy. "No, no, no!" she screamed in earnest.

There was a blinding flash and a phoenix, larger than life appeared and reared itself at the serpent. In a wisp of smoke the serpent was gone. The scene dissolved around Hermione and all that was left was she and the milky phoenix staring into each other's eyes.

The phoenix opened its beak and instead of the sweet song Hermione expected Mrs. Cattermole's voice filled the room.

_"They think I might not come home—"_

Hermione jumped and sat up so forcefully a sharp pain shot through her back.

She was shuddering. That memory… mixed in with a nightmare…

Hermione could not believe she had forgotten so easily the countless Muggle-borns that had to flee because of Lord Voldemort's tyranny….

She could not believe she did not know what the future held after Harry had finally defeated Lord Voldemort.

Flashes of memories invaded her mind. Images of the Ministry, Lupin's angry face as Harry shouted at him, an old and wizened Bathilda Bagshot staring at Harry in earnest, Draco Malfoy's horrified face as his aunt raised his wand to torture his old schoolmate, the light reflecting off of Aberforth's glasses, Dobby…

Hermione was only numbly aware she was moving out of her four-poster and toward the dormitory door.

The most bizarre memories crept back into her mind. It was as though that dream had unleashed a torrent of thought that could not be stopped: Ariana's portrait, Professor Trelawney throwing crystal balls from the balcony of Hogwarts…

Hermione made her way down the steps and through the portrait hole.

…The Christmas Carols they had heard in Godric's Hollow, Ron's face as he realized his brother would never joke again…

Hermione had just barely remembered to slip on a robe and shoes. Her feet barely made any noise as she walked through the corridors.

…Neville's voice shouting "Dumbledore's Army!" and Hagrid's sobs. The sight of Harry's body…

Hermione pushed her way through the library doors and made her way back to the Restricted Section.

…Voldemort's furious face as Harry called him Tom Riddle. Voldemort's voice, loud and clear in her mind,

_"Is it love again? Dumbledore's favorite solution, love which he claimed conquered death?"_

The golden sunlight that swept across the room as Harry and Riddle raised their wands at each other…

Hermione grabbed the book she was looking for, turned, and exited the library.

…Voldemort's shell hitting the ground, dead…

Hermione had witnessed it all. She could not believe she had forgotten. It was so simple… She stopped in front of the Room of Requirement and passed in front of it before pulling back the tapestry and entering.

The Room provided her with everything she needed. She opened the book and placed it on the oak table in front of her. The room was spacious, plenty of room to duel for she believed she might have to tonight.

She did not need much. A vial, water, a small silver knife and an assortment of ingredients Riddle had used before. In all honesty those ingredients were of little importance; however, they had a crucial purpose to serve. The Room of Requirement had one last item to serve her and she waited patiently as the Room worked its magic to deliver the most crucial piece of her plan.

It was nearly a half hour before Hermione heard the creak of the door and the room allowed Tom Riddle to enter.

"Took you long enough," she said calmly as she stirred the contents in her bubbling cauldron.

"Yes, well, I don't think the Room of Requirement is used to finding ways to deliver messages to students in the middle of the night," he said as he made his way toward the table. He looked as though he had dressed in a hurry, his robes were thrown over a partially buttoned shirt that lacked a tie and his hair was not as neatly combed as she was used to.

"How did it do it?" she asked, looking back to her work.

"I ended up with a house elf prodding me awake and apologizing fervently," he said sounding a bit annoyed.

Hermione furrowed her brow, wondering if he had harmed the elf in revenge. She allowed the topic to slide, however, just this once.

He eyed her cautiously, trying to discern her mood from her demeanor. She seemed determined and tense. She reminded him slightly of himself as she worked over her cauldron. He found himself on the opposite side of the table… so to speak.

She had called_ him_ here and she was now the one working diligently over something she had cooked up in which he would no doubt play a roll. Perhaps he should have been more upset with her for pulling this little power play, but after the events of the past week he found himself more amused by his clever little Mudblood than infuriated.

He stood across from her watching her movements. What was she up to?

"I'm recreating the potion you made to extract your soul," she said bluntly as the potion began to settle.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"What gives you the idea that you will be more successful than I?" he asked her, settling himself into the armchair across from her, his amusement gone.

"I have a bit more skill at potions than you," she said as-matter-of-factly. "Oh, relax," she said noticing his rise in temper. "You're still better at Defense Against the Dark Arts… ironically."

Tom narrowed his eyes at the cauldron before him. He was not sure he liked the idea of risking Hermione's health again. She had never fully recuperated from the last time they had tried this experiment.

"Are you sure you're well enough to do this again?" he asked, picking up the silver knife.

She looked at him mildly surprised.

"I just would miss what that mouth can do if you were incapacitated," he said derisively.

She scoffed and took the knife back from him, blushing slightly. He was only helping her cement her decision to carry out her plan.

"Do you have the locket?" she asked coldly.

He hesitated but pulled the golden chain out from beneath his shirt. He did not take it off.

"We'll see how it works first before I take this off," he said responding to her scowl. "And if it does indeed work I think I'll be dealing with it."

Hermione gave a curt nod. She didn't expect to be using the locket anyhow.

"What are you doing differently?" he asked, staring at the potion.

"The procedure," she said lifting the knife. "This time you add your blood first. Hold out your palm."

He stared at her seriously before taking the knife from her and cutting his own palm and holding it over the cauldron. Hermione rolled her eyes and took the knife back.

She made a small slit in her palm and her own blood dripped into the potion… the most crucial part of the plan. It turned from black-green to copper.

Tom watched her as she dipped a crystal vial into the potion and brought it up to her lips…

"Stop," he said suddenly and grabbed her arm.

Hermione jumped at his abrupt movement. Could he have discovered her ulterior motive for recreating this potion?

"What?" she snapped.

Tom did not like the uncertainty of the situation. She could become as sick as she had before, or defy him if the potion was a success. And if the potion was a success he did not know how he felt about her role… would she remain loyal to him? Would he be able to exert the same amount of control over her once she was no longer his Horcrux?

"What if it does work? Are you willing to accept the Dark Mark?"

Hermione glared at him.

"We've already been through this," she said aggravated.

"I want to hear you say it."

"I will."

"Will what?"

"I will accept the Dark Mark."

"And if the potion goes wrong for a second time?"

Hermione lowered the vial. She was not looking forward to the amount of pain she had gone through last time.

"How did you heal me last time?" she asked. She _had_ woken up alive in his room the following day.

Tom shifted in his chair.

"I had to concoct that potion I fed you after Slughorn's party. It took too long. The reason," he said eyeing her expression. "why you never fully recovered."

"Would you happen to have any of that potion with you now?"

Tom studied her for a few moments before nodding and pulling a miniature vial full of blood red potion out of his robe pocket. "I have been carrying this with me in case you were to fall ill again. We mustn't let you be dragged off to the Hospital Wing. Too many unneeded questions."

"Well, I'll just take that again," Hermione said shrugging and lifted her potion to her lips once again.

Tom did not have a good feeling about this. He felt as though something was happening that shouldn't be. He did not trust the witch in front of him. He watched her down the vial. She did not appear to be in any physical pain, though she looked frazzled. She forced the vial into his hands.

"Drink it," she demanded through a strained voice.

Tom dipped the vial into the cauldron and brought it to his lips. It smelled very much like her. Hermione's eyes watched him anxiously.

"Should I trust the potion made by the hands of a mudblood?" he asked only to antagonize her.

"Drink it!" she shouted, staring at him in earnest. She was shaking slightly.

Tom set the vial down and stared into her eyes. What was she trying to do?

"No!" Hermione said, tears filling her eyes. Her wand was out in a second and Tom reached for his.

"_Imperio_!" she shouted, pointing her wand at Tom.

Tom felt his mind become blissfully blank. He could not recall ever feeling quite like this.

_Drop your wand!_ came a voice inside his head. Drop his wand? Never. He was not stupid…

_Drink the potion! _ordered the same voice. He wasn't sure. The vial was in his hand but he did not think it was wise to drink it.

Tom felt a hand close over his and felt the cool rim of the vial press against his lips. He struggled slightly but the calm that had overcome his brain prevented him from grasping the severity of the situation. He felt the potion pass into his mouth and swallowed.

He had not wanted to do that… He felt anger fighting to conquer his blissful state.

And it won. Voldemort was on his feet now pointing his wand to a writhing Hermione. She was in pain upon the ground, having finally succumbed to the effects of the potion after she had succeeded in forcing him to take it.

He stared at her incredulously and furiously. He approached her, wand still directed at her.

"What have you done?" he demanded. She ignored him as she continued to clutch herself in agony. "Answer me!" and he jabbed his wand at her, lifting her from the ground so she hung in midair, writhing before him.

"The potion!" she gasped. "The red—"

"There's only enough for one of us," he sneered. He too was feeling the effects of a faulty potion. His skin began to burn though he imagined her pain was far greater do to the fact she was the vassal his soul was trying to escape from. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he was suffering as well.

"Do you realize what kind of damage you could have done?" he asked, shaking his wand so that she shook in midair. His eyes were wild in rage. If she died his soul would be destroyed… and he did not even know what that could mean for his future. She could not suffer the effects of the botched potion again and live… He had no choice.

He allowed her to fall to the ground and she crumpled in pain. He looked at her with disgust and grabbed the red bottle from the table, uncorking it and kneeling down, forcing the potion into her mouth.

He stood back as his own pain grew in intensity while hers began to settle.

"Filthy mudblood!" he shouted at her as he fell back into the chair she had been sitting in.

Hermione felt exhausted. She wanted to fall into a deep sleep right then and there and never wake up. But she could not. She had to see to Tom… She slowly rose to her feet, watching him in horror as he clenched his eyes in pain. Hermione felt a pang of guilt.

"What was that potion?" she asked, her voice still shaky from the torture she had just endured. "I could make it for you."

He shook his head irritably and bit down on a knuckle.

What had he done for her the first time? Before he had been able to brew the potion? He had simply touched her.

"Come here," he gasped.

She did not want to but she gingerly approached him. She could tell his pain was increasing.

As soon as she had stepped near enough he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She cried out but he pulled her onto his lap. He forced his hands under her shirt and pressed his face against her neck, sensing cool relief only where their skin met. He gripped her waist so tightly he knew there would be bruises. Hermione seemed to get the idea and ran her hands down his neck doing what she could to relieve his pain and her pesky sense of guilt. He bit into the crook of her neck and she winced. She knew that she was the only relief he could get until he passed out.

She gave him as much comfort as she could, pressing herself against him. She knew he would be furious once he regained his strength and would demand to know what she had done. But the answer was so simple that she could easily hide it from him. She had not messed with the potion. She had not added any secret ingredient or hatched a plan to kill him. She had done everything like he had but only taken the process a step further.

He had drunk the potion as well.

He had taken her blood.


	20. Slumbering Serpents

Ok guys let me know if you would rather have a chapter this size and then another chapter samesize/shorter immediately after or if you would rather wait an extra day and have me post a really long chapter.

I still would be updated "once a month" but I would split up the big chapter into 2 or 3 chapters and update like every other day for a few days until the next month or so. So let me know!

I had to break this chapter up into 2 because too many events were happening in one chapter. It started to feel like overkill. So the next chapter will be very connected with the last chapter, much like the ones I posted around xmas. And the next chapter will be up like… tomorrow.

I don't really want to explain why Tom drinking Hermione's blood is so important. It's not a secret per se but… If you're confused reread the chapter in Deathly Hallows "King's Cross." And also the dialogue between Harry and Voldemort in "The Flaw in the Plan" and you can figure it out.

And if you're still confused things will become clearer eventually. Maybe not in this chapter but in future chapters. Just believe me, I was_ very _careful to make sure I got it right.

Tears of Ebon-Grey

Thank you! I like to think I keep people up at night reading!

MrSam31

Thank you sam I know you like your smut!

hpfanf

Oh don't worry you will!

meagan

Lol. Ahhh school friend! It's not ALL smut!

rachhulk

Lol the blood thing will be more apparent later on.

Web Walker

Aw thanks! Eh well I'd still write even if I didn't get reviews but reviews make me update faster! lol

killtheenviousmoon

Aha I had inspiration from Akashathekitty for that scene. She is on Granger Enchanted if you want to check out her fics. She's the smut writing queen. I bow down to her.

Heidi191976  
Here's sooooon!

blindfaithoperadiva

Random outburst of excitement are most welcome!

inappropriate-name

Thanks! As long as I have readers I will be writing!

dreamofdesire

Twisteh.

ginny2006

Tom did say he would make her beg for it and Tom does get what he wants. Hmm… lol

Dying.Rain.

Ominous music is good!

TheCresentMoonWriter

Next chapter!

FeyWhyte

More ominous music! Great effect!

firefly of hell

Oh good I'm not the only one blushes. P

Nerys

I live for your reviews! Lol. I think I enjoy reading your reviews as much as you enjoy reading my fic!

I loved imperiusing tom. He is fun to mess with though I'd rather he mess with me. Did I just say that? Oh yes. Yes I did.

tom losing control is hot. she'll probably go research that potion, our wonderful Hermione.

don't go crazy here's an update!

Ankoku Dezaia

Lol. It's definitely not a good thing but can we fight it??

Disclaimer: Anything JKR says goes.

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty: _**Slumbering Serpents**_

_Dream, dream, dream,  
Of the joyous day to come.  
While guardian angels without number,  
Watch you as you sweetly slumber.  
Dream, dream, dream,  
Of the joyous day to come._

_--Still, Still, Still

* * *

_

Tom Riddle walked up the winding path towards the large manor. It was the evening and the sun had already begun to set. It was a cooler summer's day so he had worn a light cloak over his robes, which fluttered in the breeze. Over his school robes of course. He did not care that it was the summer holidays. If he had been speaking to wizards then he would wear the proper attire.

The walk wasn't a very long one but nonetheless he was out of breath from anticipation. Little Hangleton was the last place he wanted to be at the moment… but he had business to attend to…

He gripped Morfin's wand tightly in his pocket as he approached the door. He noticed the gardens were well kept. These muggles obviously took pride in their standing. He wasn't sure what to expect as he lifted his hand to knock on the door. He hesitated. He discovered he did not really care. He knocked loudly three times.

It was a few moments before he heard rustling inside and heard a click. The door opened partially and half of a tall old man's face was visible. The man looked him up and down before sucking in a breath. The two men stood staring at each other.

"My God," the old muggle finally said and opened the door a little wider in order to get a better view of Tom.

Tom frowned at him but stood still for scrutiny. He would only have to wait a few moments longer.

"May I come in?" Tom asked, doing his best to hide any sense of resentment or distaste in his voice.

The old man nodded wearily and stepped aside, allowing Tom to enter the grand entryway. Tom studied the golden pattern along the wall and the portraits of whom were presumably his ancestors. Tom then decided it was time to look at the man who had let him in.

They were the same height. He was far too old to be Tom's father, however. The old man had tufts of white hair upon his head and was wearing a silk collared shirt with a vest and black satin pants. Obviously tasteful clothes in the upper muggle castes.

"Are you Tom's son?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Tom Riddle Jr. nodded grimly.

"Of course you are. You look just like him when he was your age," the old man said still looking dumbfounded.

"Jacob?" a woman's voice came from the adjourning room. "Is it that strange little man with the funny clothes again? I told you to send him away whenever he—" her voice caught in her throat as she stepped into the entryway. Her eyes widened.

She was considerably smaller than her husband and thin but as well dressed with pearls around her aged neck. Her hair was a dark brown, obviously dyed.

She placed a hand over her heart as she stared at her grandson. Jacob rushed over to her and took hold of her arm.

"Come now, Margaret. Well, let's move into the drawing room shall we?" he said trying to sound cheery while he gripped his staggering wife.

_Margaret _and _Jacob_. What common names. Much like _Tom_.

Tom followed them into a brightly lit room filled with all sorts of muggle hobbies and books. He saw an elaborately decorated book lying on the sofa: _The Art of War_.

That was one Tom had heard of. There was soft music playing from a record player in the corner. It sounded like a ballad Tom had heard before from the records the other kids played in the orphanage.

Jacob lowered his wife into an armchair and gestured for Tom to sit.

"No, thank you. I'd prefer to stand."

"Oh, are you in a hurry?" Jacob asked, sounding almost hopeful.

Tom was glad to find it was so easy to hate muggles.

"Yes, actually I am," he replied, a dark expression covering his face.

"Do you need money?" Tom heard his grandmother pipe up. She seemed to be recovering from nearly fainting. "Did your mother send you to ask for money? I understand if she did."

It took a great amount of strength to not pull out his wand and curse them at that moment.

"She's dead."

His grandparent's faces faltered. That's right. They had received a note on a funny looking piece of paper saying that the tramp's daughter had died leaving her son motherless. Tom had arranged for the baby to be taken to an orphanage in London. The shame of raising a peasant's son had been too great for the family to bear.

Jacob looked terribly uncomfortable. His eyes searched the room for something to change the subject. His eyes rested on Tom's hand.

"That's a very, er, nice ring."

Tom raised his hand to eye level and looked at it. The ring he had only acquired earlier that day.

"Thank you," Tom said quietly. "It was my grandfather's." He noted the expression on Jacob's face. "My other grandfather."

"Ah…"

"W-would you like anything?" Margaret spoke again, looking anxious. "Jacob, call for the maid."

"No, I don't need anything," Tom intercepted. He really did not want to accept these muggles' false hospitality. "I would like to see—" Tom's voice failed to say _my father_. "Tom Riddle Senior."

"Senior?" Jacob asked, blinking. "Do you go by Tom as well?"

Tom nodded curtly.

"He's out at the moment," his grandmother said with her hand on her chest again. "But he should be in any moment."

Just as these words were out of her mouth they heard a call from the entrance.

"Frank demanded to know how there were two of me as I was pulling up the driveway," said a voice not unlike Tom's but deeper. "Do you really think it's necessary to keep him on?"

And Tom Riddle Senior stepped into the drawing room. Jacob and Margaret's eyes darted between the two. The entire room was holding its breath except for Tom who was looking at his father with disappointment.

They looked startling alike. The same shade of hair… the same facial structure…. One set of features older and the other younger, like looking into time's mirror. Evidence of Lord Voldemort's muggle heritage.

Tom contained himself.

"Hello,_ father_," he found himself saying bitterly. "I was in town visiting relatives. I thought I might stop by."

Tom Riddle Senior seemed to pull himself out of his stupor at these words.

"Relatives? You mean that unbalanced pauper on the other side of town?" He had not meant for the words to be harsh, but it was his nature.

"Yes," Tom said sharply. "My Uncle. Your ex-brother in law."

Tom Senior winced.

"I never meant to marry your mother," he said sounding apologetic. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else than in his own home at that moment.

"That seemed obvious," Tom sneered. "Considering I spent the first ten years of my life in some filthy muggle orphanage."

Tom Senior shook his head.

"She was enamored with me. I- she tricked me somehow. Dear God, I didn't mean for any of it to happen!"

"Yes, dear Merlin, you abandoned her," Tom said gripping the two wands in his pocket tightly.

"I-" Tom Senior's eyes went wide. "D- did you say Merlin?"

He walked further into the drawing room and to the drink cart. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and drank it in one gulp. He looked back at his son. "Yes…Merlin," he continued. "She told me." He shuddered. "She told me about her… abnormality."

Tom's knuckles were turning white around the wands…

"Is that why you left her?"

Tom Senior met his son's gaze for a few moments before pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

"Yes… that was one reason…."

Jacob and Margaret were exchanging horrified glances. Apparently their son had never explained to them his ex-wife's "abnormality."

"What was her name?" Tom demanded.

Tom Senior looked taken aback.

"Oh, it was…. No, I remember it!" he said quickly catching Tom's hardening glare. "It was… Merope."

"Merope Gaunt," Tom said quietly, more to himself.

"Yes, that was the family's name," the elder Riddle said pouring himself a third drink.

"You fool," Tom said tensing. "You filthy muggle. She was a pureblood, descended from Slytherin. You weren't worthy to marry her."

"Unworthy to marry _her_?" Margaret had obviously taken great offense to this. She understood nothing of wizarding bloodlines. "That tramp's daughter? Obviously inbred and with this… oddity on top of it? She's lucky my Tom even strayed from his good judgment for a few weeks!"

"Now, dear," Jacob had begun, but he was cut off, his eyes darting to the two long sticks in the youngest Tom's hand.

Tom Senior seemed to recognize what it was his son was holding. He paled.

"Now, T-tom… she did name you 'Tom' right?" he stuttered holding up his hands, still holding his drink.

"Most regrettably," Voldemort said lifting Morfin's wand with his left arm and clutching his own in the other. "You see, I no longer spend my time at the orphanage. I am a wizard and wizards belong in Wizarding School."

Jacob was now standing protectively in front of his wife who was whimpering, "He's mad!"

"What I am about to do to you, however, cannot be learned in any wizarding school," Voldemort continued with a glint in his eye. Adrenaline was rushing through him.

"Tom! Really now! Son!" Tom Riddle Senior tried to plead with his son.

Voldemort directed his uncle's wand at his father first.

"Do not call me son!" he spat. "I go by Lord Voldemort now!"

Voldemort felt an energy building inside him that was much more than anger. He looked at his father with hatred.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Voldemort felt a surge run through his body and air rush past his ears. Tom Riddle slumped to the ground, a look of terror on his frozen, dead face.

Mrs. Riddle shrieked and tried to run from the room as Voldemort advanced on his grandparents to eradicate his ties to the muggle world.

* * *

Tom stirred. He was quite warm. A bit too warm. It felt as though he were recovering from severe burns and his skin was tingling in mild discomfort. His limbs felt heavy but were in a comfortable position. He fought with himself to fully wake, pushing aside dreams of his first and final meeting with his father. 

As he slowly came to, he realized there was a weight on top of him. He took a deep breath and the weight shifted. He heard it sigh. This helped him clear his mind. He was immediately aware that he needed to remember to be angry about something. He would rather not be. He was quite comfortable where he was even if he was in slight pain, but what bother had a bit of pain ever been to him before?

But why was he in pain?

He growled as he realized he could not ignore what he needed to remember. He'd rather be angry than ignorant any day.

At the noise, the weight shifted on top of him again and he felt something cool brush against his chest. It was then he realized he was only wearing boxers. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times before looking into the eyes of the girl he wanted to kill right at that moment.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, looking at him nervously.

"If I didn't know better I would attack you," he said with as much force as he could.

She sighed again.

"I knew you would be upset." She was lying on top of him. With a sweep of his eyes, Tom saw that she was dressed in only her knickers as well.

"Imagine that," he sneered promising to himself that as soon as he regained his strength he would make her pay dearly. "So was this an attempt to take advantage of me?" he taunted.

Hermione blushed and sat up.

"No," she said bitterly. "It was just- you were in so much pain- skin contact was the only thing—"

"Shut up," he said harshly and turned to his side, forcing to her roll off him. They were lying on a bed, but he recognized it was not his own.

He immediately felt the effects of her absence; his skin burning more sharply than before, though Tom knew this was only the aftereffects of the potion.

"I offered to make you that red potion!" she argued.

"I wasn't in any state to tell you how to brew it, was I?" he snarled.

"Well, I can make it for you now!" she said scooting away from him. Weak or not she did not like the look in his eyes.

With the strength he had regained so far, he grabbed her wrist so she couldn't move away.

"No," he said sharply. "Do you think I would trust you again?"

"Did you ever trust me in the first place?"

He didn't answer but pulled her closer to him. Hermione's pulse sped up though it had been months since it had done that solely because she was a Horcrux.

"How are _you_ feeling?" he asked. He still sounded threatening but there was a smug note to his voice now.

She frowned at this.

"Fine," she answered truthfully. "After you fed me that potion I was fine. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"How very touching," he said beginning to smirk. He was still furious at her but since her punishment had to wait till he regained his strength he may as well antagonize her.

Hermione's frowned deepened. What did he have to be smirking about? She gasped as his hand ran from her wrist up her arm. She shuddered.

"Is that all you're feeling?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

Hermione glared at him. She clenched her eyes as his hand traced the rest of the length of her arm, over her shoulders, and down her back. She _had_ noticed she had been extra sensitive towards him. When she had regained her strength after taking the potion she had been filled with a sense of guilt. She had imagined it was only her Gryffindor nobility.

Hermione heard him chuckle. She was so close she could feel the vibrations of his laugh.

"What was that potion?" she demanded.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said, his voice growing less smug and more intimidating once more. She felt his hand slide roughly over one of the bruises he had made the night before and winced.

"You know what my potion was! It was the exact same you made before!" she insisted.

"Liar," he breathed and he turned them so that he was on top of her. He groaned, pain shooting through him at his sudden movement. But he ignored it, pinning her to the bed.

Hermione looked up at him, confusion etched on her face. She had a flashback of the last time he had forced her to drink that red potion. She had felt the same sense of confusion that she did now. He had told her to come and she went and that had been the beginning of her intoxication with Tom Riddle. She had wondered what was wrong with her.

"What did you do to me?" she asked furiously.

"Again, I can ask you the same thing."

"I didn't tamper with the potion! I swear!"

Tom could see it… she wasn't lying. She certainly was hiding something but there would be no effects of the potion he was not expecting.

This did not lessen his anger. There was still the matter that she fed him a potion she knew to be harmful. Was it so worth his pain that she would risk dying herself? He could not understand that. He would have to keep a very close eye on her…

But as for now he was satisfied to see how she was staring at him. She looked utterly perplexed and frustrated.

"Do you know why contact relieves the pain?" he asked running his hand along her opposite arm this time.

"I still want to know what that potion was!" she snapped.

"It is because," he continued, ignoring her. "When my soul, imbedded in you, tried to leave your body, it was trying to find its rightful master. It could not reconnect with me of course," He ran his finger along her collarbone. "But it knows who it belongs to, which is why when the potion failed the first time, it helped that I touched you. The soul recognized me as its owner."

"You're not answering my question," Hermione said stubbornly.

"But because I cannot continuously be touching you, though I don't think you would oppose," he said as his hand traced between her breasts and she shivered. "That potion is made predominantly of my blood."

Hermione gaped at him. She had been drinking his blood? A few drops of it in the potion she had made was not a great deal but a potion that consisted of little else?

"I wouldn't look disgusted. My blood is far more worthy to be drunk than yours…"

"But what about you?" she asked. Did that mean he had to drink a potion of her blood to get better? He had already drunk enough for her plan to succeed.

He closed his eyes. He looked paler than he had a few moments ago, but when he reopened them they looked steady. Hermione furrowed her brow at him.

"I will recover. There is nothing in me that will fight to escape and nothing that needs to re-bond."

He closed his eyes again and rolled off her, settling back into the bed. She would unquestionably pay for making him appear weak in front of her.

He felt something cool touch his temple and groaned. She was kissing him gently along his forehead. He would have reprimanded her for this sickeningly sweet display of affection but he decided to hold back considering he had failed to reveal another side affect of the potion he had given her….

* * *

Hermione was fairly proud of herself. Even if Tom ever discovered that it was because she wanted him to drink her blood that she fed him that potion he would never understand why. Tom Riddle never cared about things he did not understand. She could probably sit him down and spell it out for him and he would laugh in her face and call her a fool… just as he had to Harry. 

Voldemort understood nothing of love or sacrifice.

She watched the resting Tom, lying beside him. She had redressed after he had lost consciousness again. The next time woke he would be a little stronger. She sighed. She supposed it was time to get him to his own room.

After he had collapsed the Room of Requirement had shifted and provided a place for him to rest. Watching Tom in that much pain had been unnerving. Before he had lost consciousness he had certainly lost control over his actions. He had been the one who had undressed her, desperate to make the pain the potion had caused end. He didn't seem to remember much of that. Or how he had almost pleaded with her to stop the pain. It was a moment of weakness she did not think she would ever have the opportunity to see again.

Hermione caused a disillusionment charm on herself and Tom and levitated him out of the Room of Requirement. She walked slowly back to the Head Boy's room, making sure she didn't drop him.

As she reached the giant Hogwarts crest she realized that she did not know the password. She scowled to herself and lowered Tom gently to the floor. She removed the Disillusionment charms from their bodies and crouched down beside him.

"Tom," she said gently, touching the side of his face. She liked him much better unconscious. He did not appear evil at all as he lay on the floor. He did seem tense, of course. "Tom," she repeated.

Hermione heard footsteps approaching them. She panicked and pulled out her wand to cast the disillusionment charm once again but Professor Dumbledore came around the corner before she had a chance to mutter the spell.

Dumbledore paused at the sight of the two and his mouth fell open momentarily.

Hermione was standing point her wand at an unconscious Tom Riddle at four in the morning. She inwardly groaned at what it must look like.

Dumbledore closed his mouth and hurried to them.

"Professor," Hermione began. "This isn't what it looks like. I didn't—"

Dumbledore knelt down beside Tom, examining him.

"What happened?" was all he asked.

Hermione looked down at her Professor and realized she could not think of a rational lie.

"He- we snuck out to go on a stroll together," she lied desperately, clinging to the public belief that she and Tom were dating. "He fell asleep and I was just bringing him back only I forgot that I didn't know the password and was just trying to wake him up!"

Dumbledore watched her gravely as she spoke.

"This is not a natural sleep, Hermione. Please do not insult my intelligence."

Hermione paled. Dumbledore had been patient and kind to her thus far in her time in the past. He had only suspected she was getting involved with a wizard he thought to be heading down the wrong path. But what would he think of her now that he suspected her hand in dark arts?

Dumbledore passed his wand over Tom, his eyebrows creased together.

"He is very ill."

Hermione nodded. She knew. But she did not know what to do for him.

"How did he get this way?"

Hermione felt as though she had swallowed her tongue. She knew she could not tell Dumbledore how because that would give Dumbledore information that he could not know for years.

She shook her head.

Dumbledore stood. Hermione gulped.

Yep, he was tall.

"Miss Granger," he began looking down at her through his half mood spectacles. "A student is very ill. I need to know what caused this so we can help him."

Hermione stared into her Professor's face with resolution.

And Dumbledore did something that terrified her more than anything Tom Riddle had ever done to her. He looked at her with the same disappointed gaze he reserved specially for Voldemort.

Hermione wanted to confess everything. She wanted to admit to everything she had done and everything Riddle would do. She wanted to stop the most evil Dark Lord from ever gaining power. She wanted to give Harry a life with his parents and Dumbledore a more peaceful life. She wanted to save thousands of lives and the lives of her friends.

It took every ounce of courage Hermione had to not answer her Professor's question.

Dumbledore drew his wand and Hermione almost took a step back. But he only conjured a levitating stretcher and lifted Tom onto it.

"He will spend the rest of the day in the hospital wing. We will do what we can for him," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding as serious as his face. "You should return to your dormitory."

Hermione nodded glumly and began to move away. But Dumbledore's voice stopped her.

"I only hope," he said his voice sounding stronger than it had before, "that you did not have a hand in this."

Hermione watched him and Tom walk down the corridor until they turned a corner out of sight.

Her breath caught in her throat and she slumped to the floor, shaking in a pain far greater than the one she had experienced earlier that night.


	21. Nyë Pyll

I recommend everyone googles "Angel In the House" and reads that poem. And let me tell you, I KEELED THE ANGEL! and it was a victory! this chapter was fun to write but it's definitely darker. Nyë Pyll means "Into The Forest" in Albanian.

Nerys

Aye chica! Lol. For some reason my comp wasn't letting me on here! I had to restart and have been trying to post. But here it is! Don't worry I don't think you'll be disappointed!

'

This chapter is sort of longer

Heidi191976

Thanks!

.

Yes poor Hermione. She'll have trouble with Dumbledore now!

ShinketsuKarasu

Lol. I liked the Hermione/tom scene last chapter too. It was cuddly.

And I don't think tom would have crucio'd his family not because he didn't want to but because he had just gotten out of his 5th year and even if he had cast the cruciatus curse before (which he most likely had at least once) he would still know that it was 3 adults against him even if he was a wizard. It's more wise to terrify, kill and be done with him.

dreamofdesire

Poor tom. He's not as strong as he thinks he is. **purrs**

Nerys

you again! I had a dream last night that I went shopping with tom. Not even kidding. He bought a green sweater! XD

lol yeah tom wouldn't like lovely dovey stuff. He hates love so anything loving would creep him out. I semi relate. I'm not really romantic

and I'm sorry the next chapter took so long! Lol. I had to be careful with it. you'll see.

blindfaithoperadiva

Bahaha. The blood thing will be more obvious soon.

Ankoku Dezaia

Lol poor tom?? He's a psycho! A hot psycho but still!

Tears of Ebon-Grey

Ddore is hard to characterize. I do my best!

Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Tom Riddle. chuckles

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-One: _**Nyë Pyll**_

_Death of an Orange_

_So ripe and soft. Hands squeeze the thick porous skin, already exploding with moister. A nail makes a slit that allows the flesh to be peeled steadily off in random patterns. First a small piece, ripped aside to reveal the flaky, white underbelly of the skin as well as the sweet, golden fruit itself. The next piece of skin ripped away is larger, the first having given better access for the fingers. The skin is shed, gently at first, but then more eagerly as the conquest is reached. Finally the shell is tossed aside and the orange revealed, full to bursting. It is split in two, by hand, liquid running down the fingers as the first slice is lifted to lips. Once it enters the mouth the slice is torn and the small pouches that hold the sweet juice are revealed. They are crushed, unnoticed. The first slice is popped in, almost unappreciated, and devoured. The second is treated in much the same manner, though the liquid bursting between teeth is noticed and pleasing. One after another the pieces of orange enter with much the same care, juice running down the chin and sticking the hands, until the very last. This one is unconsciously passed between the lips much slower than the last and savored with the sort of care given to the last days of summer. It is sucked on and chewed until swallowed reluctantly and is gone. As a hand reaches for yet another piece, it realizes with surprise that there are none and all that is left are the pieces of flesh, inedible and still full of moisture, to play with.

* * *

_

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. Should she visit Tom in the hospital wing? She did not think he would be very pleased to see her though he would probably expect her anyway. Especially since he would not know how he ended up in the hospital wing in the first place… this was not going to help his temper…

She decided against going to see him right away. After she slept, she spent time in the library (sneaking back the book she took the previous night) and completed as much homework as she could knowing once Tom was back at full strength she would not be spared a chance to work on it.

As she completed her Charms essay her mind began to drift back to the conversation she and Tom had had about the blood potion. She was still repulsed at the idea his blood was part of her now. But she still suspected there was more to that potion than he had let on. She didn't even know where to begin researching a potion like that. She supposed she would start back in the restricted section… again.

Hermione spent hours flipping through every book she and Tom and looked through during their visits to the library. Nothing. Had he come up with the potion himself? Perhaps the potion he had made had been an innovation from other potions. Whatever it was she knew that the potion did more than stop her pain. It somehow made her closer to him.

Hermione hadn't realized she had spent the entire day in the library until the light coming from the windows began to dim.

"Artemis?"

Hermione looked up from what seemed like the hundredth book she had gone through that day. It was Caity.

"Oh, hello Caity!" she said, feeling slightly guilty she had not spent more time with her new friend.

Caity smiled weakly. She obviously had something troubling her mind.

"Do you know why Riddle's in the hospital wing?" she asked. Hermione was surprised. She had not realized the news that Tom was sick would travel so fast. "No one's been allowed to visit him. I'm worried it might be something really serious." And Caity, bless her heart, looked genuinely worried.

Hermione frowned. Tom Riddle was such a manipulator.

"No. I'm sure he just caught a cold that went wrong. You know how he is… he would rather try and battle out the cold than get a quick fix."

Caity looked unconvinced.

"I'm going to see if any of the Slytherins know," Caity said and turned away.

Hermione wished that someone, _anyone _would see through Tom's silly charade.

Hermione turned back to her work in darker spirits. She was sitting on the floor in front of the longest bookshelf with a moldy book propped open on her lap. She was about to flip the page when her eyes caught it.

_Cruor Vinculum_

Hermione squinted her eyes and read the description. It was more difficult to understand because it was written in old English. It said nothing about Horcruxes, which is why it had taken Hermione so long to find it for she had been searching through the books on Horcruxes first. It was a simple potion, though it took several hours to brew and had been banned due to the dangerous procedure of taking so much of ones own blood. Hermione looked at the section of the book she had found the spell in.

_Diligo Quod Servitium_

Hermione gasped and turned back to the page to finish reading the description. Everything she had been feeling toward Tom Riddle… the confusion, the…

Hermione gripped the edges of the book tightly. He had essentially fed her a _love_ potion.

This was not one of those infatuation potions the Weasley brothers sold that only lasted a few days. This was the kind of potion Rita Skeeter had accused Hermione of brewing her fourth year, the kind the Ministry had banned.

And he had fed it to her. _Twice_. Albeit it was in small doses. According to the description, the recipient had to drink the potion regularly for a month before the process was complete. Hermione slammed the book shut, rose, and stormed out of the library with it. The librarian, who had always been fond of her, watched her go in surprise.

"Now really…"

Hermione headed straight towards the hospital wing with the intention of demanding to see Tom Riddle.

* * *

Tom's eyes opened slowly to find he was looking into the face of Albus Dumbledore. The surprise of seeing his least favourite person in the world prevented Tom from masking the immediate annoyance in his face.

"Glad to see you're awake, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly as though he had not noticed anything.

Tom quickly dropped any emotion from his face. He felt panic rise in him mixed with his anger. Was it possible Hermione and turned him in to Dumbledore? He tried to sit up.

"No, no, Tom," Dumbledore said and placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, pushing him back onto the sheet. "You need your rest. It was a good thing I came across you and Miss Morgen this morning. She said you had been out on a stroll and had simply nodded off."

Tom breathed. She had not revealed anything. Good Horcrux. He may consider not punishing her as harshly as he had been planning to.

"But of course," Dumbledore continued, with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. "I could not imagine why Artemis was having such trouble waking you up."

Tom raised his eyebrows at his Professor.

"I don't know, sir. Seventh years are very tired. NEWTs this year."

"Yes, I have seen many fits of exhaustion from our seventh years in the past. And you are one of our more ambitious students."

Tom didn't say anything, waiting for Dumbledore to continue.

"But I have never seen someone fall as ill as you did due to exhaustion, Tom. Actually, I have never seen anything taught at Hogwarts that could have put you in the state I found you in." Dumbledore continued to stare at Tom with his piercing blue gaze.

"What are you saying, professor?" Tom asked in a respectful tone.

"Do you remember what I told you, Tom? The day we met?" said Dumbledore.

Tom resisted frowning. He did remember the day they had met. It had been that day that had raised Dumbledore's first suspicions about him.

"Yes, sir."

"I informed you that the Ministry has laws and that it would punish those who break them."

"Yes…"

Dumbledore stroked his long auburn beard, while watching the young wizard seriously.

"I would like to remind you of that again, Tom."

"Thank you, Professor. I will think it over," Tom replied shortly. What a crazy old bat.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something else but before the words were out of his mouth, the wing's doors had slammed open.

Both Tom and Dumbledore looked in surprise at Hermione who marched into the ward but faltered after seeing her professor sitting beside Tom.

"Oh," she said dully, losing some stamina. "I- I can come back…"

Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"I was on my way out, Artemis. You may speak to Tom if you would like," he said and glanced at the school nurse who had exited her office to see what was wrong before scowling and returning into it.

Hermione smiled meekly as Dumbledore passed her and exited. She turned to Tom who was watching Dumbledore go with loathing etched on his face.

Hermione felt her energy return and she marched to his side and threw the book she was holding onto his lap. He sat up and looked at it.

"I see you've been doing some research," was all he said.

"You bastard!" she shouted at him as loud as she could without drawing the nurse's attention. "You bloody, bastard! You fed me this- this _love_ potion!"

He looked at her, amused. This may be the sort of payback he had been going for…

"You seem very ungrateful that I saved your life. I hardly gave you the full dosage. I didn't want you slobbering all over me."

"You still fed it to me! You could have at least informed me of what I might feel!"

"What did you feel?" he asked, looking at her with interest.

Hermione growled.

"You damn well KNOW what I felt!" she said feeling her cheeks grow hot.

Tom sighed. His Horcrux was growing mutinous. And he still had yet to discover her motive for feeding him that potion. He was afraid he would have to take immediate steps to further his immortality. He had not planned on taking the next step so soon and now this witch was forcing his hand. He had a lot of thinking to do.

"Get out," he ordered more because he had to begin planning than because he was angry with her.

"Excuse me? You still haven't—"

"Call us even," he said giving her a murderous look. "Now get out before I call the nurse over."

Hermione was fuming but Tom's attention had already drawn away from her. She made a promise to herself that this conversation was not over and stormed out of the hospital wing.

* * *

Tom straightened his robes as he exited the Hospital wing the following morning. The nurse, not being able to detect what had caused his illness and not being able to explain why he had regained his strength, had let him leave.

Tom made his way through the castle back to the Head Boy's room. It was a longer walk and he passed several students who seemed glad to see he was feeling better.

"Just a bug," he explained to any questions they had.

Just as he had reached the Hogwarts' crest he heard someone call him name. He turned to see the Gray Lady floating toward him, smiling prettily.

"Oh, Tom, I'm glad to see you're feeling better!" she said sweetly. "I hope you weren't too ill."

"Hello, Gray Lady," Tom replied politely. "No. I only let a cold get away with me. I'm perfectly fine now, thank you."

"I'm very pleased to hear it," she said lowering herself so that she wasn't floating above him. "And please, call me Helena." Her cheeks glowed silver.

Something registered in Tom's brain and his eyes swept over her face.

_Helena?_ The ghost of Ravenclaw was named Helena. "You're Helena Ravenclaw."

"Yes," she replied, smiling mischievously. "Helena Ravenclaw."

Tom was startled. He could not believe he had gone through Hogwarts for the past seven years and had not noticed the resemblance between the Gray Lady and Rowena Ravenclaw.

"It's not commonly known outside of my house," Helena admitted seeing the look on his face. "I don't like to mention it, really. But," she lowered her voice. "I have heard rumours," she looked at him excitedly. "That you are related to Slytherin."

This was not the kind of conversation he had ever expected to have with one of the Hogwarts ghosts. Tom grinned broadly. He had just been given the perfect opportunity.

"Yes, I am," he admitted with false shyness. "But I don't like to mention it."

She giggled.

"Why don't you like to mention it?" he continued curiously.

The smile on the Gray Lady's face faded. She looked uncomfortable.

"Well…" she said slowly.

"It's alright, Helena" Tom said, gently. "You don't have to talk about it if you'd rather not."

Tom studied the expression on Helena's face. She looked at Tom sadly.

"I was never as wise as my mother," she began. Tom felt his stomach clench in excitement.

"I wanted to be as clever as she. More clever than she was, in fact." The Gray Lady looked ashamed.

"We all want to be greater than our parents," Tom said sympathetically.

Helena nodded glumly.

"She had a diadem," she continued. "that gave extraordinary wisdom to whomever wore it."

Yes, Tom had heard of it before. He listened anxiously to where the story was headed.

"I stole it," she said quietly, her pale eyes widening. "I stole it from my mother and ran away."

"Knowledge cannot be stolen," Tom insisted. "An object like that should be shared. Your mother had no right to keep it from you in the first place."

The Gray Lady looked at Tom appreciatively.

"I know… of course, but the trouble I caused...!" she shook her head tragically.

"What others do is their choice. We cannot blame ourselves."

She looked thoughtful for a moment before sighing.

"My mother became ill," she said with a pained expression on her face. "She fell ill and wanted to see me one final time. She sent a man who had been in love with me to find me. But, when I refused to come with him he killed me in anger. He could not live with what he had done, and killed himself shortly after. You know him as the Bloody Baron."

Tom made a note to talk to the Hogwarts ghosts more often. Their pasts were proving to be more exciting than he had previously thought.

"What became of the diadem," Tom heard himself asking before he could stop himself.

"If it has not been moved it is still in the place I left it centuries ago."

She watched him pensively.

"There is nothing wrong with wanting—" Tom began.

"—To pursue knowledge. Yes, you are right." She finished for him.

Tom was going to say "power," but she could think what she wanted if it would get her to trust him.

She looked nervous as she stared at him anxiously.

"And you _are_ the heir of Salazar?" she asked.

"I am," Tom said.

"My mother always liked him. They were friends. The founders of Hogwarts… even if he did have a falling out with Gryffindor." She paused. "Why do you not like to mention it?"

"I do not want to brag," he grinned.

She nodded.

"Only someone modest could wear the diadem of Ravenclaw and use it as it was meant. I suppose that is why I was never meant to keep it," she added as an after thought. "But it would be nice if the diadem could be found… preferably by someone as connected to the school as you... related to a founder…"

Helena missed the greedy expression that crossed Tom's face as she leaned in to whisper the location of the lost diadem.

* * *

Hermione was prodded awake by a house-elf.

She grumbled and stirred before opening her eyes to see a creature with bat like ears and enormous eyes peering at her nervously.

"Sorry, Miss!" it squeaked in an incredibly high voice. Hermione surmised it was a girl. "I have orders! Miss must—"

Hermione sighed.

"Go to the Room of Requirement?" she ventured.

The house-elf shook her head, her ears flapping into her face. She held out a note in her long fingered hands.

Hermione looked puzzled and took the note, thanking the elf. She opened the note and read:

_Meet me in the Entrance Hall as soon as you receive this letter. _

_-LV_

Hermione scowled. Of course he would sign "Lord Voldemort." But didn't he realize that she could choose to simply not come? Surely he knew she would rather not see him after what he had done to her? And especially not after what she had done to him. She bit her lip as she stared at the parchment. She could at least continue the conversation they had been having in the hospital wing. But whatever he wanted couldn't possibly be good… he already wanted revenge…

She got out of bed and dressed. She was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. She assumed they would be outside considering he wanted to meet her in the Entrance Hall. That made the situation extra ominous.

She grabbed her cloak and tied it around her as she crept quietly out of her dormitory, careful no to wake the other sleeping Gryffindors. She gripped her wand tightly and cast a disillusionment charm on herself so any more teachers wouldn't catch her. One run in with Professor Dumbledore had been enough.

She felt wide-awake as she walked through the halls with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She almost turned back twice but decided it would be better to face whatever he had in store for her head on. He was probably still a bit weak anyway.

She reached the Entrance Hall and scanned the area. No one. She assumed he was probably under a disillusionment charm as well. She lifted her own so that he would know she was there and make his presence known. Suddenly, she felt something grab her arm and cover her mouth before she could shriek.

"Shhh. It's me," she heard Tom's voice say and he uncovered her mouth.

She settled and turned to look at him. He wasn't there.

"I'll lift the charm once we get outside," he said and led her towards the doors. She walked along with him feeling the sturdy grip of his hand. She could tell he was not angry at all. He was animated in fact. What was going on?

"How did you know I would come?" she asked him distrustfully.

"The potion," he said and she could hear the grin in his voice. Hermione fumed.

They stepped off the final step of the castle and began making their way across the grounds. Tom became visible and Hermione could see he was carrying a large bag.

"What is that for?" she inquired suspiciously.

"Ritual," he said simply. Hermione stopped walking and he turned to look at her. "You do not have a role in it, if that puts you at ease."

Hermione breathed and continued walking.

"Then why am I coming?" she demanded.

"Because you are a Horcrux," he said not looking at her. "And I would like all my Horcruxes to be present for this."

Hermione's apprehension grew.

They passed the snow covered Quidditch pitch and continued walking in silence, the moon illuminating the grounds around them.

They approached the edge of the forest and Tom moved to step into the cluster of trees.

Hermione froze again.

"Why are we going into the forest?"

Tom gave her an annoyed look.

"Because we can't be seen." And he began to pull on her arm.

Hermione shook her head. She had only been deep into the forest once before and it hadn't been a pleasant experience. And she'd had Hagrid with her.

"You've come this far," he said, his voice darkening.

"It really wasn't that far. Just from the castle to here," she said lamely.

"Hermione, I really need you to come." She could hardly make out his face in the dark but his voice sounded severe.

Hermione gritted her teeth and walked into the forest ahead of him. He grinned behind her and followed. Good people were truly too easy to manipulate.

They walked on for what seemed like an hour, Hermione still furious and Tom still eager with anxious anticipation.

"How much deeper do we need to go?" she implored before something made her stop.

Hermione froze, perking up her ears. She heard whimpering as though an animal were trying to break free of a trap.

She grabbed Tom's arm. "What is that?" she breathed and scanned the forest around her. The trees were so thick in this part of the forest she could no longer see the moon or stars. They had stepped off the main trail ages ago and they were relying on Hermione's wand light to guide their way.

He guided her farther ahead and suddenly, through the heavy branches, Hermione could see an opening in the trees. Straight ahead was a small, circular gap in the middle of the forest. Hermione was sure she had never seen this part of the forest before.

The whimpering had grown louder and more pronounced. Hermione's instincts kicked in and she walked ahead of Tom to try and see if she could help the poor animal. She stepped into the clearing and looked around. She nearly screamed.

Tied to a tree to the right of the clearing was what looked liked a middle aged man struggling to free himself. He was covered in filth and wearing ragged clothing, his hair, long and greasy, hung down into his face. Hermione gasped and rushed over to free him. She pointed her wand at his binds and he winced at the sight of it.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you," she insisted.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and out of sight. Hermione gaped. Shaking in anger, she turned to Tom who had a wicked smirk on his face, twirling her wand in his hand...

"What are you playing at, Riddle?" she demanded furiously.

Tom stepped further into the clearing, the moon illuminating his face. The tramp recognized his captor and began to struggle more earnestly.

"HELP!" he shouted, desperate for anyone to hear him. Hermione could only imagine what kind of "fun" Tom had had with him to make him this horrified.

"Let him go!" she shouted at Tom, tears forming in her eyes.

He grinned more broadly still as he set down his bag in the middle of the forest's gap.

"I'm afraid not, Hermione," he said as he pulled out a cauldron that was certainly too big for the bag he was carrying. "After your little adventure the other day I'm afraid you proved yourself to not be the most reliable Horcrux."

A fire was lit beneath the cauldron. "I was concerned, to say the least, for why you might try and feed me that potion. Your motives may still be hidden but luckily I was wise enough to realize that you may have made me more vulnerable than I would like."

Hermione gazed at Tom with an expression of disgust. She turned from him and began to try and unbind the man from the tree.

"Don't do that," Tom said in a calm voice and flicked her own wand at Hermione.

She felt herself lift from the ground and rush through the air to the opposite end of the clearing. She landed roughly on the grass, now to Tom's left. Hermione scrambled to her feet. Tom was already stirring the contents of the cauldron with her wand. She watched in horror as he lifted up the sleeve of his robe and brought a silver knife to his skin. The gash he made along his arm was deep and long. Blood spilled over both sides of his arm into the cauldron. He didn't even flinch. Hermione felt light headed.

As soon as he decided he had added the proper amount, he ran her wand over the gash, the skin swelling and mending itself rapidly.

The tramp whimpered more loudly. Tom gave the man an annoyed glance and cast a silencing charm on him. The tramp continued to struggle soundlessly.

"Tom, what are you doing?" Hermione said, her voice unnaturally high in her fear.

"I am securing my immortality, Hermione," Tom said and undid his cloak. The snow around the cauldron had melted. "It has been threatened."

Hermione could feel heat radiating from where he stood.

Tom's cloak fell to the ground and he began to unbutton the shirt beneath his school robes. The locket glinted in the glow of the cauldron against Tom's bare chest.

He looked like a greedy boy in a sweets shop, his face was ecstatic and his eyes were wide. He lifted her wand and turned to the tramp.

"No!" Hermione heard herself scream and before she knew what she was doing, she was over to Tom, trying to force down his wand arm.

"Let go, you stupid girl!" he laughed at her. She struggled with him, trying to grab her wand from his hand. He ripped out of her grasp and pushed her to the ground. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted and Hermione's limbs froze together.

He waved Hermione's wand at her a second time and she was upright against a tree. He wanted her to see the show….

Tom gave her another smirk before turning his back on her to finish the muggle…

The muggle's mouth was open in a silent scream as Tom directed her wand towards the man.

"Would you like to see some fun before I finish him off, Hermione?" he questioned her mockingly.

Hermione could not shout her protest under the binding curse.

"No?" Voldemort asked. "I did already have some fun before I brought him here as you can imagine. He was stumbling around drunk in muggle London. He was asking for it really."

The man shook his head and struggled more violently.

"Really, it's rather lucky you sent me to the hospital wing, Hermione. I may never have run into the Gray Lady if you had not."

Voldemort was twisting Hermione's wand this way and that as though looking for the perfect angle.

"Of course I had the locket but what if I made it into a Horcrux too soon? What would I use the next time I needed to protect my immortality? It was too risky until I discovered another object of my interest, and I, the only one who knows where it is, will retrieve it."

The binding charm did not prevent tears from running down Hermione's cheeks as she silently pleaded she could be anywhere but here… she knew that he would create more Horcruxes and that was how time must play out… but she never wanted to be present for the ritual.

Voldemort looked over his shoulder at Hermione.

"And now I can counterbalance whatever you had planned for me. Whatever you had tried to accomplish by forcing that potion on me was done was in vain."

Voldemort turned back to the tramp and pointed Hermione's wand directly at his heart.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he sneered.

Hermione felt as though the air in her lungs had rushed out of her mouth as she felt something fly past her. She felt an unpleasant shiver run up her spine and clenched her eyes.

She fought with herself for a moment before curiosity got the better of her. She opened her eyes and saw Tom removing the locket from around his neck. He lowered it into the glowing cauldron and the light became red, making Tom's face more sinister.

He lifted Hermione's wand and began to speak. Hermione could not understand what he was saying. She was sure it was a foreign language.

Then fire seemed to erupt from the cauldron and he leaned toward it, the deep red glow appearing to emit from his skin. He cried out and Hermione could see the locket among the fire.

Hermione blinked. For a moment she thought that there were two Toms standing in front of her. Hermione closed her eyes again, not wanting to see any more of the darkest arts.

She heard him gasping and heard the cauldron burning. Not even her curiosity could make her open her eyes at that moment.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the noises settled and she felt the air around her calm. She peeked open her eyes to see Tom on his knees at the foot of the now dark cauldron. She shivered. He still seemed to emit a dark glow as though he had embodied the contents of the potion. She prayed that he would be done with her now and let her go.

As though he had read her thoughts, he looked at her. If Hermione could move she would have sprinted through the trees, Gryffindor or not. His eyes were a solid red and the look on his face mirrored pure satisfaction with what he had just done. He rose to his feet. Hermione saw he was wearing the locket. His robes and shirt were still open and it appeared to cling to his bare chest.

He lifted her wand at her and she felt the body bind lift. She collapsed to the ground, shaking. She was frozen to the spot.

Hermione gasped for air and stared up at him in horror. She did not know how to handle this Tom. This wasn't Tom at all. Not even close. It still looked like Tom… the same aristocratic face, the same body, the same movements… but as he approached her, static snapped in the air with power that she had not known the previous Tom possessed.

The locket hung from his chest, clinging to it even as he leaned over Hermione. His ring felt hot against her skin as he gripped her arms and pulled her up toward him.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear.

She couldn't speak. She could not find her voice but could only breathe in the energy that hung around him.

"Hermione, did you love me?" he asked. She looked into his red eyes. His grin looked like one of a mad man.

She tried to pull away.

He laughed. Hermione felt her blood freeze. His laugh was so cold…

"Please!" she begged, desperate to get away from him.

He laughed again cruelly, the third splitting of his soul having ripped away another ounce of his humanity.

He forced her back as she continued to protest. His touches felt like electric shocks.

He didn't bother with kissing her lips. He bit her neck hungrily and moved down her body. Hermione didn't feel any need in his actions, only aggression and possessiveness.

She shuddered under him as he began to undress her, using his wand to make a slit in her robes and pulling them aside. He needed to possess all of his Horcruxes tonight.

Hermione could hardly suppress a moan when she felt his hand slide up her thigh. She heard his cruel chuckle again as he moved his body on top of hers. She shuddered, the Horcrux and potion affecting her more than she realized.

Voldemort was heady with power as he looked down at his Horcrux. She was more his than she realized.

He thrust into her and heard her gasp in pain and pleasure. It was so different from the first time because she was no longer a virgin. And he was not concerned with losing control this time.

He moved into her, breathing against her neck as she writhed beneath him. Hermione arched into him, forgetting who he was and why she shouldn't be enjoying this.

He never slowed his pace but continued to thrust into her. He filled her… his scent, his body, his power. He intoxicated her.

He growled into her ear, not wanting her to forget where she was and who she was with,

"Who is doing this to you?"

Hermione was sensitive to every movement he made. She opened her mouth to speak but groaned as he pushed into her again.

"Answer me," he ordered, digging his nails into her hips.

"Y-you," she breathed. She wrapped her legs around him to bring him closer to her.

"Who am I?" he demanded as he brought her closer to the edge.

She threw her head back and he thrust deeper into her. Through the fog she knew what name he wanted to hear. She held back as best as she could.

He nipped her neck eliciting a gasp from her.

"V-Voldemort!" she said and she clung to him, wanting to feel that he was not the Voldemort she knew in her own time.

She felt him grin against her neck and raise himself up for a better angle. His locket was now dangling between them, brushing between Hermione's breasts.

"Tell me you're mine," he commanded

She felt like crying and moaning in pleasure at the same time. He had completely engulfed her senses.

"I'm yours," she breathed as she felt her muscles tense. She could feel his hunger, his pleasure pounding inside of her as his soul, combined with her body, was enraptured with being this connected to him.

She bucked against him in ecstasy. She heard him groan and tense shortly after as he plunged into her a final time and came.

He collapsed on top of her and she clung to him as she slowly came down from her high.

Hermione felt him move off of her and she shivered as the cold night air hit her. He stood and she watched him, her stomach fluttering unpleasantly. He raised her wand at her and she recoiled instinctively.

He laughed and she felt her robes mend and cover her. She shakily rose to her feet, spots doting her vision.

"Go back to the castle," he ordered, tossing her her wand. "I'll take care of things here."

Her eyes widened and she looked over the clearing, the evidence of what he had done still surrounding them.

She looked back at Tom, meeting his eyes. They were as red as ever as he watched her in mirth. She backed away from him and turned on her heels and ran back through the forest towards the castle, not wanting to think about the consequences of what had just happened.


	22. Desecration

I'm so sorry for not responding to reviews! if you had a big question ask again and I'll answer it next time. I LOVE reviews!

Sorry this chapter took so long to put up. I hope my readers have not abandoned me! XD

But seriously...

I did start another fanfic _Quidditch,_ but I like this one better because Tom is more fun to write than Draco. Tom is just messed up, man.

Disclaimer: Someday I will dedicate a book to JKRowling!

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Two: _**Desecration**_

_If I chance to find you there, amidst the light and open air __  
__I'll sit with you and take your hand, inhale with you the promised plan __  
__Regarding only in a day, each moment lest it slip away __  
__Singing softly in the wind, we'll consecrate the souls of men_

--Flyby

* * *

Hermione couldn't breathe. She was lying on her bed, gasping for air. She had shut her curtains and cast _Muffliato_ around her four-poster in order to have as much privacy as she possibly could. She could have just found an abandoned classroom but she did not want to be alone. She felt safe in her dormitory, surrounded by her other Gryffindors.

She shuddered as she tried to steady her breathing. What had he done to her? Nothing that he had not done before, surely? But what were the effects of sleeping with him after having taken that red potion? And even that paled in comparison to what she had just witnessed… another Horcrux. Hermione clenched her eyes to block out the images, but that was a mistake. The scene only replayed in her mind more clearly. Hermione jumped and sprang out of her bed, rushing to the bathroom. She felt filthy.

She slammed on the shower, aware that she was acting a bit hysterical but didn't care. She jumped into the cold water, still dressed, and grabbed a bar of soap, rubbing her skin as fiercely as she could, wanting to rub away her shame. She had not even asked him to stop. She really was a plaything of Lord Voldemort. The water turned warmer and grew to a temperature too hot for Hermione's skin. She fell to her knees and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from sobbing. Hermione felt like two different people at that moment. It was as though the sane cool headed Hermione was watching in annoyance from the inside as this new, panic-stricken Hermione tried to regain control of herself on the outside. It was almost like a reverse out of body experience.

Hermione lifted a shaking hand to the nozzle and turned the heat down, allowing the water to fall at a more comfortable temperature. She remained on her knees, finally succeeding in regaining her breath. Is this how Harry had felt after he had seen Lord Voldemort return?

Hermione burst into tears at the thought, her entire chest constricting and convulsing as though it were about to explode. After all they had done. After everything Harry had done. After everyone who had died… ruined, wasted. Voldemort was creating Horcruxes out of order. How were they supposed to stop him now? How was she supposed to stop him now?

Hermione calmed a bit as she remembered what she had done days before. He had still taken her blood, tethering her to the earth like he had done with Harry… but she must find a way to make him destroy the Horcrux within her… he must think she was so dangerous to him that he would risk destroying a Horcrux in order to dispose of her. Voldemort was always careless with his Horcruxes… and now that he had created a new one he may be less protective of the old…

There was still some hope, but she would need to remain close to him. Still. Hermione growled. She would need to infuriate him and often. She seemed to have a knack for that, but…

Hermione rested her head against the shower wall. It was much easier to act when it was a spur of the moment thing. Having the patience to plot your own death… that would take a whole new kind of bravery…

And there was no promise that it would be painless. He had never shown her mercy in the past and now that he was even less of a human she doubted he could even understand what mercy was anymore.

She would have to test him to see how human he still was and how hard it will be to make him break and destroy a piece of himself. Hermione was not looking forward to it.

* * *

Tom Riddle was not tired.

Did he even need to sleep anymore? Surely nothing would happen if he did not. He was immortal after all. He sat casually in his armchair beside the fireplace of the Head boy's suite. A book lay in his lap but he had not really been reading it. A tall mirror hung on the wall across from him. The room was bright from the full moon outside and he could see his pale skin glowing. It was a nice effect, he thought. As the effects of the Dark Magic had calmed, his eyes had returned to their normal black. He was sure Hermione had been horrified to see the effect the ritual had on him.

Perhaps she would take him more seriously from now on. There would be greater consequences if she did not. He stood and paced his room. He felt no dramatic changes in himself. But he did feel more detached from his surroundings. He felt less in general. Usually when he thought of the mudblood his pulse would quicken and he would be filled with frustration, but now… nothing. Nothing but amusement at her reaction to the ritual and the knowledge he needed to keep a close eye on her.

Tom breathed a sigh of relief. He had come too close… He had not even realized it. He had not realized how close he had come to actually… caring for the girl. A sense of repulsion filled him. How had he been so weak before? He was thankful it had been in his best interest to create another Horcrux. If he had not he would still be stuck with his pathetic and human feelings towards a mudblood. With any luck, after he had split his soul again he would never be bothered with such human weaknesses again.

No wonder she had been such a burden to him before. When he had first slept with her it had been out of need for her. He had let her affect him far too much. He would not make that mistake again. He would not allow that again. Tom clenched his fists. He _could_ not allow that again.

He turned to look at himself once more in the mirror and saw his eyes glowing red at him from the depths of the dark mirror.

* * *

Hermione needed to get inside Tom Riddle's head. She needed to scare him. Harry had taught her that Voldemort's greatest fear was death. She needed to make him think that she was a threat to his immortality. And of course she was. He just did not know how.

Hermione noticed that Tom was colder towards his fellow students in the following weeks. She thought that they would surely notice that their precious Head Boy had become distant. Surely he would seem less human to those who admired him. But no. They were too wrapped up in the warming air. Spring was on the horizon. As for Tom and Hermione, Tom had thought it appropriate to openly act as though he and Hermione were an item, though he was colder with her as well. He walked with her to class in silence and gave her fleeting parting kisses that made passersby "aw" but make Hermione shiver. She had never felt so distanced from him. She was both relieved and unnerved by that. She knew the old expression of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. But every time Tom touched her on their way to class, Hermione felt chilled.

"Artemis?"

Hermione jumped.

"Yes, sir?" she responded looking up at her professor. She had not realized she had not been paying attention in Transfiguration. She glanced over to Tom who was sitting beside her, giving her a curious look. She looked away quickly, back to Professor Dumbledore.

"We were discussing animagi and the process in order to become one. We were going around saying what animal we thought we would take the form of," he said kindly.

Hermione frowned. She knew Dumbledore was not that pleased with her and Tom after the number of run-ins the three of them had had all year. And she was sure he was not pleased to hear that Tom and Artemis were an official couple.

"A type of feline, sir," Hermione offered.

Dumbledore nodded.

"I agree. Very fitting. And you, Tom?"

"A type of serpent," Tom replied quickly.

"Naturally," Dumbledore said. "You are both the epitome of your houses."

Hermione grinned but Tom did not look as pleased. Hermione looked between the two and an idea popped into her head. Who was the one person Voldemort feared? Why, Albus Dumbledore of course.

After class, Hermione took her time packing up. Like a good gentleman, Tom waited for her, though he looked impatient. She couldn't imagine he wanted to spend any more time than necessary in Dumbledore's presence.

Hermione turned to him.

"You go on, Tom. I have to speak to the professor." And she gave him a peck on the cheek that she knew would annoy him.

He raised his eyebrows at her and glanced over at Dumbledore. If he waited for her he would be waiting a while. Artemis had to get in line because Dumbledore had a small assemblage of fans that grouped around his desk after every class since his defeat of Grindelwald. The detail that Tom and Hermione had been present had not been disclosed. Tom sighed and exited the classroom. He really could not stand to watch the old man soak up the fanfare.

Hermione waited patiently at her desk as the group of mainly Gryffindors asked him to recount the events to which Dumbledore declined. Finally the group dwindled and departed.

Dumbledore remained at his desk, aware that there was still one student who had not left his room.

"What do you need, Artemis?"

Hermione approached Dumbledore's desk and looked into his face. He was looking at her with concern. Good.

"Professor," she began. "I know you promised you would help me return to my own time."

Dumbledore's expression softened.

"Yes," he said softly. "I did. I'm sorry, Hermione. I have been looking into the matter more thoroughly since the defeat of Grindelwald. I'm afraid without any knowledge of how you managed to come to this time in the first place, I will not be much help to you."

Hermione suspected as much. She was avoiding Dumbledore's gaze and staring at a strange whirring object on his desk. Even as a teacher, Dumbledore had a collection of odd trinkets.

"I would encourage you to not give up, Hermione. You are an incredibly bright witch. I would hate to see your talent and potential destroyed because you wound up in the wrong company." His blue eyes glowed as they studied her. "If nothing else, you could be a great witch in this time as well."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, colouring. She did not realize Dumbledore thought so highly of her. "I will keep trying," she said respectfully. "I appreciate everything you've done for me." She turned to leave. Before she reached the door, she turned back to him. "And, sir? I'm sorry if I've caused you unneeded stress this year. I know you had enough to worry about without me."

Before her professor had a chance to respond, Hermione swept out of the classroom. She looked both ways down the corridor before turning to her right and walking in the direction, whistling to herself.

Just as she suspected Tom Riddle appeared beside her.

"Trying to attract attention?" he sneered at her. Hermione smiled sweetly at him for show. A few students were still making their way through the halls.

"Whatever do you mean, Lord V—"

Tom clamped a hand over her mouth, drawing interested stares from the passersby. Hermione grinned at him with her eyes. Tom released her mouth.

"Artemis, dear," he said, placing a kind smile on his face that gave Hermione the chills. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk in private."

"So soon before dinner?" Hermione fake pouted. "Usually you can wait until afterwards, Tom," she purred.

Hermione wanted to burst into giggles like the fourth years that were passing by at the look on his face, but she controlled herself. She thought he was… could he be blushing? Was that even possible?

Tom composed himself and linked arms with her under the guise that they were walking affectionately arm in arm, but Hermione felt his vice grip and knew she was in trouble. Well, that was the idea anyway.

Tom led her to his room; she supposed to play along with what she had alluded to for anyone watching. It was a good excuse to be alone with her after all.

The Hogwart's crest swung open and Tom allowed Hermione to crawl in first. Hermione paused at the entrance after stepping through. She had never really taken in his room before. Unlike in her own time, the Head Boy and Girl's rooms were nowhere near each other so what she saw was completely Tom's. The room was large and had two parts. One side was expansive enough to fit a few armchairs and a fireplace. The other held his bed, a desk, a mirror, and a closet. There was a door Hermione presumed led to the bathroom.

Before she could relive what had happened to her last time she had been in his room, she felt his arms encircle her waist and felt his teeth gently on her neck. Hermione jumped.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"Isn't this what we're supposed to be doing?" he taunted into her ear. "Or would you rather wait until after dinner? Because evidently that's when I usually want it."

Hermione stiffened as his hands moved to the clasp of her robe and unfastened it. She fumed. He was testing her to see how far she would let him go after what had happened in the forest. This was the first time they had truly been alone together. He wanted to know how Hermione would respond to him, not Artemis.

She knew he expected her to pull away from him and then a battle of wills would ensue as he tried to terrorize her with whatever he was mad about this time… and Hermione knew what he was mad about this time since she had planned it.

But Hermione had a different idea of how this would play out. She wanted to terrorize him.

Hermione turned to face him and with all the courage she could muster, she smiled at him through her eyelashes and placed her hands on his shoulders.

He raised his eyebrows at her, apparently not expecting this sudden display of affection. Hermione turned him and steered him to an armchair, surprised he was letting her control him so far. Maybe he was just curious to see what she would do.

Hermione lightly pushed him back into an armchair and climbed onto his lap.

"Trying to gain the upper hand?" Tom asked nonchalantly, lying back into the chair. Hermione noticed she was not having much of an effect on him.

She realized with less of a soul he was less attached to her. She frowned at him and placed her hands on either side of him on the arms of the chair. He smirked at her.

Now Hermione found herself testing him, trying to see how she could affect him if at all. Surely she could… she was still his Horcrux.

"I'm just acting like a good girlfriend should," she said, lowering her face to his.

He chuckled and Hermione kissed him. She began slow, trying to entice a reaction out of him. It was true; she did not affect him as she had before. She would have to try harder. She bit on his lower lip and moved her hands to the front of his robes, pushing them off his shoulders.

He was still fairly unresponsive. She began to unbutton his shirt, kissing him harder. After failing to gain a response from from once more, Hermione pulled away from him and gasped for air.

"Anxious, aren't we?" he said looking over her now flushed state. "What are you trying to do, Hermione?"

Hermione glared at him. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. He had just taken her not too long ago and here he was acting as though she were a pathetic schoolgirl trying this for the first time.

She figured she would no longer be able to manipulate him this way, and began to move off him. He grabbed her waist, stopping her. She looked at him incredulously.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" he asked, looking at her with his cold, black eyes. "I've just decided. I don't want to wait until after dinner after all."

He pulled her back toward him and kissed her hard like she had been doing to him only moments before. Hermione was surprised… and confused. She pulled out of the kiss.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked breathlessly as his hand made its way under her skirt.

"That can wait," he said kissing her neck and using his other hand to open her blouse. "I wouldn't want to deny you what you seemed so eager for."

Hermione shuddered at the vibrations his voice made on her neck. She felt strange. Why were they doing this? She knew he could stop himself if he wanted. He did not need her and she didn't need him.

Tom kissed her again and Hermione complied, parting her lips and allowing his tongue to roam her mouth. She had given up pretending she was not attracted to him ages ago. They kissed each other as Tom used his wand to discard Hermione's panties. Hermione almost protested. But before she had a chance he had released himself and entered her.

Hermione gasped and arched her back, pulling out of his kiss. Tom pulled her back quickly, kissing her harshly as their breathing became more ragged. Tom placed his hands on her waist and pulled her down, entering her more fully. Hermione moaned in pain into his mouth but he would not let her move away. Hermione was forced to press into him in order to ease the pain. It worked fairly well. Hermione felt a burst of pleasure and found herself kissing him passionately.

His movements became harder as he gripped her hips. Hermione's hands were gripping the back of his chair, supporting herself.

Hermione saw stars as she was brought to orgasm, Tom following only moments after and sending Hermione over the edge again.

Tom finally released her lips and Hermione collapsed on top of him, panting for air. It took a few moments for Hermione to come to herself again, but as soon as she had she looked at him to gauge his reaction. Besides being a bit out of breath as well, he seemed on a whole unaffected. He was resting his head on the back of his chair coolly, gripping her waist casually.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He had only been using her. This should not have made her angry because of course Lord Voldemort had been using her since they had met, but now she had more of a reason to feel ashamed.

She moved off of him and righted her clothes.

"I guess I'll be going now," she said dryly. She hoped her threat to leave would make him take the bait.

Hermione grabbed her bag and walked toward the crest more slowly than she usually would. She paused at the hole in the wall and slipped her hair into a bun before reaching to push open the crest.

"I can't believe I had not noticed before," she heard Tom speak from behind her.

Hermione grinned to herself before turning to face him.

"Dumbledore used your real name in front of me at Grindelwald's manor," he continued.

"Yes, he did," Hermione said slyly. "He's known my real name all year."

"Oh?" Tom said standing.

"Yes, I told him as soon as I found myself in this time period. I trust Albus Dumbledore."

Tom's face was expressionless as he watched her with a calculating stare.

"You ally yourself with Dumbledore?"

Hermione met his black eyes with a hard expression, considering him.

"I always have."

Tom studied her as he approached. So she thought herself on Dumbledore's side did she?

"Need I remind you that you are bound to me," he sneered at her as he circled her.

Hermione followed him with her eyes when he came into view.

"Not by choice," she said sharply.

"No?" he said with mock confusion. "You seemed very willing to yield to me earlier."

Hermione blushed.

"That has nothing to do with my mind," she said, looking straight ahead. "Or my heart…"

Tom stopped suddenly on her right at her words and leaned toward her.

"I do not want your heart," he spat. "I want your obedience!"

Hermione turned her head to face him, but not quite meeting his eyes.

"And I want your death."

Tom pulled away from her sharply, his eyes flashing. He did not react immediately.

He had spent too much time protecting her as a Horcrux. He had not realized that she might be in league with Dumbledore… out to destroy him.

She was against him. He had hoped he might be able to cajole her, bully her, or tempt her to his side…

It seemed like more drastic measures would be necessary in order to keep her from betraying him. Pity.

In a swift motion that Hermione appeared to have expected, Tom raised his wand to her temple and whispered,

"_Imperio_."


	23. Author's note I know, I know!

Over the years I've gotten a few criticisms for Hermione being too OOC and I think I need to give more explanation as to why I made her this way. I agree, Hermione is OOC, and I definitely wish I could go back and change a few things (I mean c'mon I wrote the first 15 chapters in a month! Ha).

To Hermione, Tom Riddle is a lost cause. She is not going to waste time and energy arguing with him or trying to stop events that have already come to pass (she is not trying to change the past). She is as cool and collected as she can be, spinning her trap and waiting for Tom to walk into it. I don't really think even an in character Hermione would be as bull headed, reckless, and hysterical as I've seen some Hermiones portrayed. I think a good example would be Snape, who as a double agent knew more than he could act on. Why did he not show more courage against Voldemort? Because he was biding his time and allowing things to play out until the opportune moment. Hermione isn't Snape, but I'm sure she learned a few things from him.

I admittedly enjoy writing Tom more than Hermione. While I adore her, Tom is tied with Luna Lovegood for my 2nd favorite character in the HP series (with Dumbledore and Hagrid tying for first), and I give in and write him up a bit more. I mean this fanfic is really just for my writing pleasure and anyone else who feels like reading.

I do think given the strange circumstance Hermione would be a little more timid that usual. She had just defeated Voldemort only to find they had failed and it was her fault. She had just been a refuge living meagerly in the woods, facing constant danger for the last year. She is exhausted, confused. Yes, she's back at Hogwarts, but she no longer has Harry or Ron (and while Hermione saved their butts most of the time, Harry was the one who pushed her into action) to be there for her. The Ministry has their eye on her because of her supposed connection with Grindelwald, and Dumbledore can't do much to help her because he has no idea of what will come to be. And of course she can't just go attack and defeat one of Hogwart's most beloved students. She's in a very awkward, dangerous position.

She is avoiding other students because she does not want to put them in any danger. She stays close to Tom specifically because she wants to keep an eye on him and needs him to lead her to Hufflepuff's cup. She puts up with a lot in silence because she knows the future and what he will do and only needs to be patient for Tom to walk right into her hands.

I hope that explanation helps! Again, she is OOC, but I promise you will see her strength in time!


	24. The Dark Mark

First of all I am so so sorry it took longer than I expected to update. My friend has been in the hospital for the past month and my grandpa died so it's been a rough month. But at least all this has fueled my writing! Please forgive and review!

This pretty much is exactly how I picture Tom. nami86 dot deviantart dot com/art/Ginny-and-Tom-63719927 Cruel and hot. It's a fairly dark pic so be warned.

On other notes: Holy shit. I am no longer a high schooler. And _The Dark Knight_ is effing epic. EFFING epic.

Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter and I wish she owned me too.

I hope you guys like this chapter. I had so much fun with this and it's probably the darkest so far. The next chapter is coming within a week. Trust me. It has to come quickly after this one. You'll see why. This chapter is for all of you who have grown a soft spot for Tom Riddle. Shame on you. :D

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Three: _**The Dark Mark**_

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,  
And took the fire with him, and a knife.  
And as they sojourned both of them together,  
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,  
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,  
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?  
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,  
And builded parapets and trenched there,  
And streched forth the knife to slay his son.  
When lo! and angel called him out of heaven,  
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,  
Neither do anything to him. Behold,  
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;  
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.  
But the old man would not so,  
but slew his son, -  
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

-Wilfred Owen

taken from _The War Requiem_ by Benjamin Britton

* * *

"_Tom?" came a small voice. _

_Tom rolled his eyes and continued staring at the high wooden ceiling as he had been for the past hour. There really wasn't much to do around the orphanage. He had been thinking, letting his imagination get away from him. Thinking about what he was going to do in a year when he was old enough to go to secondary school. Thinking about the whispers of war that had been drifting around London. That thought gave him a rush of excitement. He would overhear Mrs. Cole talking about how terrible it would be for another war to break out like the Great War, but he didn't think so. At least there'd be something to talk about. _

"_Tom?" the voice said again, this time accompanied with a little prod of the finger. Tom sighed and rolled over onto his side so that he was eye level with a small girl who couldn't be any older than nine, with sandy blonde hair._

"_Yes, Amy?" he said not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice._

_She blushed and clutched her doll closer to her chest. _

"_I just—never mind," she squeaked quickly and turned to walk away. Tom sighed again and sat up from his cot. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder before she could walk away. _

_She jumped a little at this and spun around to face him. She watched his dark eyes search hers for a moment. She blushed a deeper shade of crimson and stuttered,_

"_B-Billy's looking for you. He said he can't find his yo-yo."_

"_Can't he?" Tom said with mock curiosity. "Tell him I haven't seen it."_

"_B-but he said you were playing with it only yesterday," she insisted._

"_Is it a bright blue yo-yo?" Tom asked._

_Amy nodded fervently._

"_With little black stars painted on it?" _

_She nodded._

"_Haven't seen it." Tom moved back to his previous position, staring at the rafters._

_Amy gapped at him. She looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it and left quickly. Tom smirked to himself. This was all the fun he could get out of the place. Poor little Amy Benson. She had been here her whole life, like him. She knew him well enough to leave him alone when it was obvious he didn't want company. _

_Unfortunately for Billy Stubbs, he was a new member of the orphanage, and obviously didn't know how things worked._

"_Riddle!"_

"_What, Stubbs?" Tom asked without sitting up._

"_You bloody know what!" Billy came stomping into the room Riddle shared with the other ten year olds. Billy was a year older and while Tom was tall for his age, Billy had a fair amount of girth. _

"_Language, Stubbs," Tom said still not sitting up. _

"_I saw you playing with my stuff yesterday and I want to know where you put it!"_

_Tom finally sat up and looked up at the older boy looming over him. Tom almost snickered at the sight. There Billy Stubbs was, threatening him… with a rabbit in his arms. _

"_What's the plan, Stubbs?" Tom asked with malicious amusement. "Going to send your bunny on me?"_

_Billy looked thrown off for a moment before recovering and standing up straighter._

"_It's her feeding time," Billy explained hastily, looking disgruntled. "That's not the point! The point is you have my father's yo-yo."_

"_Your father's?" Tom asked now sounding intrigued. _

"_Yeah!" Billy said furiously. "And I want it back! I know you got it!"_

"_Like I told Amy, I haven't seen your—excuse me, your father's yo-yo," Tom said and made to lie back down again._

"_Amy said she saw you playing with it! Don't pretend you don't got it!" _

"_Did she?" Tom asked and looked to the door where Amy was standing, watching the fight ensue. She looked at him anxiously and ducked out of sight. The rabbit in Billy's hands gave a little squeak and Tom's eyes moved to it instead._

"_Give it back, Riddle, or I'll hang you from the rafters!" Billy threatened, puffing himself up._

_Tom sneered. He didn't really tolerate being bullied. Especially by bullies who made empty threats. _

"_Tell me, Stubbs," Tom asked, his face splitting into a grin that detracted from his handsome features. "How is it that that yo-yo belongs to your father if your father's dead?"_

_Next thing Tom knew, Billy's fist had made contact with his face. Tom fell back onto his cot, clutching his eye._

"_At least my dad has a good excuse for not being around! Yours just doesn't want you!" _

_A number of horrible things Tom wanted to do to Billy ran through his mind in the next second, but unfortunately Mrs. Cole chose that moment to come racing into the room shouting,_

"_What is this? Stop it! Stop it at once!" She grabbed Billy by the collar of his shirt. "No fighting!" Billy and Tom were still glaring at each other, Tom was seething. Mrs. Cole observed the scene, her eyes sweeping over Tom's progressively blackening eye. She slowly rounded on Billy._

"_We have a no tolerance fighting policy, Mr. Stubbs," she said sternly. "But considering your current situation this will be your final warning. Come with me. I'll decide on your punishment in my office." And she pulled a more satisfied looking Billy with her towards the door. "And Tom," she said turning to face him before exiting. "Please try and stop aggravating the other children."_

_Tom watched them go with murder in his eyes. He sat there, brooding over how he would get Billy back for punching him and mentioning his father, when he heard a small squeak from under his cot. He slid of the edge of the bed and knelt down on the floor, lifting the wool blanket to see a shivering brown rabbit huddled in the far right corner. Billy must have dropped her in his haste to attack him. An inhuman smile crossed Tom's face._

_The next day no one could explain how Billy Stubbs's rabbit had managed to get itself suspended from the rafters and no one could explain how Tom Riddle's black eye had healed so fast._

* * *

"_Imperio_!"

Hermione shuddered and felt a numbing and pleasant sensation flood her mind. Though this time it was different. He was more powerful and she was less resistant to the curse. She had known he would pull this eventually. So let him… for now.

_Go sit by the fireplace_, Hermione heard Tom's voice fill her mind. And she complied. It was like a lucid dream. Like she knew she was no longer in control of her actions, but she allowed herself to be pulled. She lowered herself stiffly into an armchair by the unlit fireplace. He had given her a simple task to test whether or not the curse had successfully worked on her this time.

Tom approached her, unsure whether she was simply faking being under the curse. She had thrown it off the first time he had cast it on her, after all. But he had since practiced and grown more powerful.

He wished he could use Legilimency against her but her mind had been too prepared to try. He still needed to uncover how she came across the cup that had transported her into the past. _Her last secret_.

He leaned close to her face, searching her brown eyes. Seemingly satisfied, he straightened and pulled up his left sleeve, revealing unmarked flesh. He ran his wand down his forearm and waited. Hermione tried to think, but found her thoughts muddled under the Imperius curse. Her brain worked as though she had had too much to drink.

After a few moments there was a knock at the Hogwarts Crest and Tom flicked his wand, causing the crest to swing open, granting a group of a half dozen boys enter. Their eyes narrowed as they saw the girl there. She did not have a great reputation among them… her arrival to the school had caused them great strain with their leader. They did not trust her with him. The last time she had been in their midst she had been brought by force. They had wondered how long before she made an appearance again.

"My Lord?" Dolohov asked questioningly as he took his place in the semi-circle forming around the room.

Voldemort ignored him for now, waiting until all of his Death Eaters were in place before standing in the center of the semi-circle. Hermione was still behind him, sitting rigidly in her chair and staring blankly at nothing in particular. Voldemort glanced at her and smirked before returning his attention to the men before him.

"We have a visitor, tonight," he announced. No one moved. Voldemort's smirk broadened into a wicked grin, making his face look more terrifying than handsome. "Artemis here," he continued, not trusting his Death Eaters with her real name still… after all she was still his Horcrux. "has decided she would like to join our ranks." He almost hissed at the last consonant.

At this Hermione made more of an effort to fight the curse, yet not completely throwing it off… she still needed to allow his manipulation… there was no way she could trust herself to take the mark willingly without any force. Though she couldn't deny that the idea disturbed her still, even through the blissful curse.

"Can she be trusted, my Lord?" It was Avery who spoke up, though his voice was soft and as polite as he could make it, not wanting to invoke the wrath of Tom Riddle.

Voldemort only continued to grin and raise his eyebrows at him.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, Avery?" he offered and stepped aside, putting Hermione in view.

Avery shot Voldemort a questioning glance but stepped forward as his leader had instructed. He looked from Hermione to Voldemort once more before opening his mouth.

"Are you loyal to Lord Voldemort?" he asked Hermione directly.

Hermione felt a tug on her mind and heard Voldemort's words enter her.

"Yes," she answered simply.

Avery blinked at her.

"…And will you do everything in your power to ensure that he gets his demands."

"Yes," Hermione repeated, her mind flooding with Voldemort's commands.

"And will you accept the Dark Mark?" Avery questioned, his voice lowering threateningly as though he did not expect her to go so far.

"Of course," Hermione heard herself saying before she could even think about the question asked.

"And do you realize," Avery continued darkly. "That to disobey the Dark Lord means death?"

Hermione could feel the hesitation in Voldemort before he made her reply,

"Yes."

This must have satisfied Avery for he stepped back into place, now looking to his master for further instruction.

Voldemort stepped forward once more.

"Would anyone else like to question her?" he asked.

When no one spoke, Voldemort turned to her, wand in hand.

"Are you ready to accept the mark?" he asked her. Hermione nodded.

_Ask for it_, she heard her mind command. Or was it Tom's voice commanding her mind? Yes, that was it.

"I am ready to accept the mark," she said, her lips working slowly as though her body were rejecting what her mind demanded.

_Ask_, his voice hissed.

"Please," she almost gasped in the effort to prevent her body from rejecting him. "Please, may I receive the mark?" Her head was slowly beginning to ache.

Voldemort seemed to realize what was happening for he moved forward and seized her left arm roughly, kneeling down and turning her forearm up.

Hermione let out a strangled cry as the heat of his wand touched her soft skin. Her mind instantly cleared and she was back in reality, all traces of wonderful ignorance gone. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying out again as his wand continued to work over her arm. She looked up at him, their eyes locking as he finished his work, that wicked smile still in place.

He finished with a flourish and Hermione pulled her gaze away from him, looking down at her arm, trying to mask the repulsion in her face. The skull and snake stared up at her, mocking her. This changed everything.

She knew it. The mood that hung in the air around the Death Eaters revealed that they knew it. This was different than her previous bond with him, as strong as that may have been. She was now not only his Horcrux. She was now his servant.

She looked back up at Tom and his eyes spoke what Hermione was thinking. His eyes spoke a dangerous promise. In his eyes she saw nothing but death.

* * *

_Amy Benson looked at herself in the mirror, fixing her shoulder length hair and wishing it had more curl to it. She brushed her blonde bangs back, desperate to get a fuller effect. She applied bright red lipstick and stepped back to take in her entire image. She was pleased with the results anyway. Maybe she was too young to be wearing make-up. Mrs. Cole said when you're fifteen lipstick might be too much, but she wanted to look nice. Tom had said that this would be his last summer at the orphanage._

_That didn't make any sense to her because he didn't come of age until another year and a half. He was only sixteen. But that's what he had said last summer anyway. She didn't know why she looked forward to seeing him every summer. He still terrified her. Especially after he had taken her and Dennis Bishop to that cave…. Amy shuddered. She didn't like thinking about it. She didn't remember much from that day actually. She remembered the cliff side and the way the waves crashed against the rocks beneath them. After that things went fuzzy. She only remembered being more frightened than she had ever been in her life._

_She didn't even know whether she liked Tom or not. He had always made her nervous. Even as small children. But maybe he was just a familiar presence. She was the only one in the orphanage who had known him almost his whole life, besides Mrs. Cole. The other children who had been around when Tom first arrived had either already left or had been adopted. _

_Amy felt her heart grow heavy. She had had a few couples take her home over the years. They had said she was such a sweet little girl with adorable blonde hair. But once she was home with them she would have fits. She couldn't help herself. She would become overwhelmed and start screaming or crying. She could not think of any logical explanation for this. She wanted to be adopted and the couples that had come to see her had all been nice enough. It was like she wasn't even in control of her own body. Like she was cursed._

_Eventually once she turned thirteen Mrs. Cole gave up._

_So she still saw Tom Riddle every summer. He would mostly keep to himself, going off into London on his own, but occasionally he would allow her to keep him company, even if she didn't want to. He still made her nervous after all. _

_But there was something about him. He was accepted into that school so he must be smart. And it didn't hurt that he had grown more handsome over the years. But strange things still happened whenever he came back. She could tell he didn't like it at the orphanage. She couldn't blame him. Amy heard Mrs. Cole's voice outside of her room, pulling her out of her musings._

"_No, no, Deborah. Don't play in the entrance today. Why don't you take your teddy and go back to your room to play?" _

_Amy peaked out of her bathroom to see a little girl run by her door clutching a teddy bear and giggling. She had been just like that once…_

_Mrs. Cole came walking by and peaked into her room. She was holding bed linens._

"_Amy, would you go make up Tom's bed before he arrives?"_

_Amy nodded and took the linens knowing Mrs. Cole asked Amy only because she was used to Tom by now. As Amy left the room she saw Mrs. Cole scowl at her. She must have noticed the lipstick._

_Amy dashed away and entered Tom's room. He was one of the very few boys who had his own room. He only needed it for the summer and Amy thought Mrs. Cole wanted to prevent the other boys from getting on Tom's bad side. She laid the sheets on the bed and began to make it. She wondered how he would be this summer. Often he would begin the summer in a foul mood… she was sure it was because he hated being back from his precious school. She could tell because he never took off that striped green school tie. She finally smoothed the last blanket over the top of his bed and folded back the sheets._

"_Is he back, then?" _

_Amy looked up to see Denis Bishop in the doorway. She shook her head._

"_He hasn't gotten back yet," she explained, still smoothing out the sheets._

_He frowned at her. _

"_Why do you look so pleased?"_

_Amy sighed. She knew Denis had always had a soft spot for her._

"_I'm just helping out Mrs. Cole, Denis," she said shortly._

"_Why are you wearing a dress then?" he accused. Amy didn't know how to answer._

"_Because! Oh, Denis. Don't you have something else to do?" she pleaded._

"_No," he said flatly._

"_Well I'd find something, Bishop, because you're blocking my room," came a low voice from the hallway. _

_Denis jumped and spun to see Tom Riddle standing there, still dressed in his school uniform and holding his trunk. He looked like he wanted to sneer at Riddle but was too cowed to put much effort into it. He ended up grimacing and walking away. _

_Tom smirked and entered his room. Amy opened her mouth to speak but she couldn't seem to find words. She had planned all these things to say once he arrived but they seemed to have gotten lost between her brain and her lips as her eyes took him in. He seemed to have grown even taller since last year and he certainly looked older. Amy suddenly felt stupid and childish in her bright red lipstick._

"_The old muggle sent you to do her work then?" He was the first to speak as he watched her struggle for words._

_Amy found her voice._

"_I—who?" Amy managed._

"_Nothing," Tom said dismissively and walked further into the room, pulling his trunk along with him. _

"_Do- do you need help with anything?" Amy offered tentatively, testing his mood. He shook his head and set his trunk at the foot of his bed and sat down, sinking into the mattress._

_Amy watched him cautiously, unsure whether or not she should leave. He was resting with his arms on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. He seemed deep in thought. He did not seem on edge and the past year had made her fairly braver. She decided to take her chances._

"_How was your year, Tom?" she asked trying to sound cheerful._

_He looked over at her curiously, as though he had just remembered she was in the room. She blushed and didn't say anything else. He watched her as though considering her._

_Suddenly a grin spread across his face._

"_I had an excellent year, thank you," he said satisfied with the affect he had on her. "I won an award."_

_Amy breathed a little easier. He was in better spirits than in the past. Maybe he had changed in the past year. She stepped closer to him._

"_Oh? What for?" she asked trying to keep the conversation going._

"_Another student was doing something highly illegal. I got him expelled. They gave me a plaque for service to the school."_

"_That's very nice, Tom," she said and sat down on his bed next to him._

_He didn't say anything else, only looked down at her pensively. She began to feel foolish again._

"_Er- want a smoke?" she heard her voice say and she reached in to the small pocket on the front of her dress and pulled out a pack of fags. He raised his eyebrows at her, apparently amused._

"_Why, Amy, when did you begin smoking?"_

"_Oh, I've been smoking for ages now. Mrs. Cole doesn't know of course, she'd never approve. I get them…" she faltered watching his expression darken. He could tell she was lying. He always could. "Last week," she answered truthfully. _

_She had started smoking hoping it would impress Tom when he returned, hoping it would make her seem older._

_Tom smirked. Amy felt stupid and pocketed the fags, making to get up. She felt Tom grab her arm and she stopped, sitting back down and looking at him with a frozen expression. He still wore the same amused smirk across his face. She could see his eyes laughing at her but he still had a hold of her arm, preventing her from moving away._

"_Is that lipstick?" he asked, his eyes moving down to her lips. Amy nodded, feeling a lump growing in her throat._

"_Did you wear that for me?" he asked quietly._

_Amy nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel her whole body blushing in her embarrassment._

_Tom had not expected to find this waiting for him at the orphanage. He had hardly talked to the girl last year. And here she was obviously expecting something from him. Poor little Amy. Tom understood that there wasn't much for her after the orphanage. Once she turned eighteen she would probably be forced out and given a job where she would struggle to make ends meet for the rest of her life… that is if she didn't find some filthy muggle to take her in and make her clean and cook for him. No wonder she was infatuated with the handsome boy who went off to a special school every year. He was probably the most exciting person she'd ever met. He was a pretty interesting person to most people he met anyway._

_Finally Amy found her voice._

"_I should- I should go," she said meekly and made to get up again. Tom yanked her back onto the bed._

"_Did I tell you you could go?" he asked though his voice was calm. That was the Tom she knew. Amy looked at him, frightened. _

_That was what did it for Tom. The fear in her eyes. He looked at the door, which was wide open. He reached out his arm and made a gesture with his hand and it swung shut. Amy gasped though somehow she wasn't entirely surprised._

"_How did you—?"_

_But Tom placed a finger on her mouth, silencing her. He titled his head momentarily, studying her apprehensive blue eyes and her freckled face. Amy jumped when she felt his lips meet her neck. She closed her eyes and shivered, not really believing that this was happening. _

_He moved from her neck to her lips and proceeded to intensify the kiss, not bothering for romance. She was just a muggle after all. She squealed a bit under the force of his lips, but he ignored her, gripping her shoulders and pushing her back down onto the cot. She gave him little resistance though he could tell she was terrified. Perfect._

_Amy was not so sure she wanted to do this anymore as Tom moved on top of her, rumpling the sheets she had just smoothed over with such care. He looked at her with dark eyes and a greedy expression. It was then Amy realized she did not have much say in the matter._

_Tom ran his hands along her body inexpertly as he kissed her roughly, listening to her whimper or moan. He moved his hands down her legs and grabbed the hem of her dress, pushing it up slowly. He had never done this before. It would be wise to practice before he had to move on to someone whose opinion meant more to his reputation._

"_Tom," Amy pleaded against his lips. "Please be gentle."_

_They both knew he wouldn't._

* * *

End Notes: No rabbits were harmed in the writing of this chapter.

And aren't I awesome for calling cigarettes fags? :D

Don't worry I won't digress from Tomione like this again. I just finished rereading the 6th book and have been flooded with inspiration for Tom. This was an interesting chapter to write. And I feel so sorry for Amy Benson. Next chapter coming soon!


	25. Butterbeer

edit: i renamed the chapter. i hope it doesn't throw anyone off.

I am sorry this took so long to come out. I have been rather busy. I started college! Ha. So that's why this has been on a hiatus. And I chose to write this instead of working on my nanowrimo novel. So feel special. :D

That being said I am very pleased with this chapter. I enjoyed writing it too much and I hate myself now. Haha. Sort of. Not really.

I'm reveling in the fact that once the HBP movie comes out everyone is going to fangirl over Tom and be reading more Tom fics. Yessssss. The preview looked pretty good. Little Tom. Awww. I'm glad I got that orphanage scene out last chapter before the trailer came out. They better not screw up Tom….

JokerxHarleyQuinn are my new fandom love. I highly recommend princessbee's joker fanfics. They have taught me so much.

I had a poem written out for this chapter but then i was reading this epic book and it seemed to fit. Yeah, at the end of the day I'm a sentimental sap. Damn it.

Disclaimer: JKRowling, how do you do that magic that you do?

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Four: _**Butterbeer**  
_

"It is something I think the strain of ridiculousness in a person, a ridiculousness born maybe of desperation... exhibited so many years later, that pierces you through with love for that person. It is all love, that not knowing, that not seeing. I am standing there eternally, straining to see, a crick in the back of my neck, peering and straining, if for not other reason than for love of him. The feathers are drifting away, drifting, swirling away. My father is calling. My heart is beating back to him. The hammers are falling still."

--The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

* * *

The Death Eaters had trickled out after Hermione's initiation, somewhat more appeased now that what they thought was a threat now served their Lord. Hermione sat, shivering slightly (trying to hide this fact from Tom), on his bed as he stared into the unlit fireplace lost in thought.

He knew that this marked a shift in their bond. Obviously being a Horcrux tied Hermione to him in ways no other magic could, but now that she was a Death Eater she had responsibilities to him. She _served _him. Tom had been itching to make her yield to him since they had met. Finally she was marked as his servant and he knew she would not take up the task whole-heartedly. And to disobey him and bear the mark meant death. That was the law. His law, anyway. He would simply have to avoid dealing with her in front of his other Death Eaters. He may show mercy on her because of what she possessed, but the others would be mutinous if she disobeyed him and was able to forgo the ultimate penalty. They would begin to think they too could disobey his authority.

Yes, they were playing a very dangerous game on a very fine line now.

He really needed to find that diadem.

Hermione watched him thinking. She knew he was going over the weight of his decision to mark her. She looked at her forearm and shuddered. Disgusting. It still hurt a bit, but the pain was nothing. She had said it before. If it became necessary for her to take the mark she would. She knew…. She had known after their encounter in the Gryffindor changing room that it was only a matter of time before he would want her in his employ. It had only been recently that she had realized that it would be much more convenient for her and rather dangerous for him if she were his servant.

There were not many secrets left between them. He knew she was not from this time. He knew her real name, her blood status, her loyalties. But he still had yet to discover how she became a Horcrux. And he still did not know her involvement with the fall of his future self.

Hermione stole another glance at her arm. She wondered what sort of tasks he would expect of her. Would he simply expect her to be more obedient? Hardly.

"Why haven't you asked me about how I got the cup yet?" Hermione asked.

Tom pulled his gaze away from the unlit fireplace and looked at her.

"All right," he said slowly. "How did you get the cup?"

Hermione blinked at him surprised. Was that a joke? She wasn't bloody likely to tell him! She just thought he would be putting more effort into finding out the last secret she kept from him.

"Right," he said smirking, eyeing her closed expression. "So you've answered your own brilliant question."

Hermione frowned. Of course he wouldn't just outright ask her.

Tom seemed to be done thinking. His gaze stayed locked on her and she felt herself squirm a bit under his intense stare. He approached her and she stood so as not to allow him to tower over her. He was still much taller, but at least it lessened the effect. His expression was cold, but calm; he was still smirking.

"You've caused a lot of trouble, Hermione," he said silkily. Hermione did not like that tone. He sighed. "I have to undo the damage you've somehow managed to achieve."

Hermione knew that she would by some means be involved in whatever he had planned.

She jumped slightly as she felt his fingers brush the fingertips of her left hand. They traveled up her hand and stroked her wrist before gripping it harshly and lifting her arm up for him to see. He admired his handiwork once again, running his thumb over the skull and snake. Hermione shivered. His eyes darted back to hers.

"Your first duty as my servant," he said, working his lips around the word "servant" with satisfaction. "is to go pack. You will be accompanying me on a short trip this weekend."

"What?" she snapped.

"This is the last Hogsmeade trip of the year—the last chance to apparate away with no detection. I would simply wait until school has ended to complete this task, but unfortunately you've made it so I cannot wait that long."

"But pack?" Hermione asked incredulously. "As in for more than one day? Tom, the professors will notice if we're gone for more than a few hours!"

Suddenly she felt a sharp, burning pain shoot through her arm and she gasped and felt her legs give out. She almost fell back onto the bed, but Tom's grasp kept her partially upright.

"Surely I do not have to point out what you did wrong?" Tom mocked, holding her with two hands now.

"The professors will notice if you're gone, _Voldemort_," she hissed furiously as the pain subsided.

"Do you think I have not considered that?" he asked, letting her fall onto his bed. "Of course the professors will notice if their Head Boy and precious refugee have not returned from Hogsmeade. I have made arrangements for distractions."

Hermione sank back into the mattress and lifted herself up with her elbows to look at him. "Wouldn't they call for the Head Boy if there's a distraction?" she asked thinking of how Fred and George used to distract the teachers.

"I think not," Tom said leaning over her with a dangerous gleam in his eye, his arms on either side of her head. Hermione did not like that either.

He was very close now, his breath tickling her face as he spoke.

"Go pack."

* * *

Hermione sat on her own bed in her dormitory. The week had passed without any further Death Eater meetings or trips to Tom's room. Besides the dark and curious glances she kept receiving from the others under Voldemort's employ, the week had passed in a relatively normal manner.

And now she was preparing to leave with Tom for who knew how long. She was certain it would not be longer than a weekend. There was no possible way he could distract the entire school for any longer. It was not too long ago that he had been sick for only a day that everyone was questioning his absence. The handsome and popular Tom Riddle's presence was expected.

She could not believe she was following his orders, but did she have any choice? She had to obey him. It was too soon for her to betray him. Too soon. At least, that's what she insisted. She was playing her entire plan by ear. Not very Hermione-like of her, but it seemed to be working so far. This trip may even help her plans along. She only wished she weren't making it alone with him.

Was she afraid of Tom Riddle? No. Was it wise to spend as much time apart from him? Yes. Considering their current and past relationship, Hermione thought it very wise to try and avoid him whenever possible.

Strangely she did not feel much shame for having slept with him. Three times so far. Hermione blushed. The first time, yes, she had felt ashamed of herself, but the second and third times… they had used sex as a weapon, each trying to manipulate the other. Hermione wasn't sure whether it had worked either times.

The door leading into the dormitory opened and Elizabeth walked in. Hermione gave her a fleeting smile. Elizabeth stood in front of her bed.

"Well, I don't know how you managed it, but the two most attractive and most successful boys at Hogwarts are both looking for you right now."

Hermione sat up straighter. She was expecting Tom to contact her but who else was looking for her? Could it be....

"Algie Longbottom was looking for you at breakfast. I don't know why but obviously he fancies you, anyway. Then I was heading up to tell you he was looking for you when Riddle caught me coming out of the Great Hall and asked me if I would please inform you that he would meet you around noon in the Entrance Hall." Elizabeth gave her a significant look.

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "Well, thank you, Elizabeth. I'll meet him then."

"You know, both Tom and Algie had a meeting with Ministry officials the other day."

Hermione looked surprised. No she had not known that Tom had met with anyone from the Minstry.

"They're trying to recruit them. I reckon that Tom wants to be Minister someday. Algie's mentioned becoming an Auror. Both will probably get what they want." Elizabeth continued to peer at Hermione with a scrutinizing gaze.

Hermione just stared back. Eventually, Elizabeth seemed to get bored of the staring contest and began to leave. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but before Elizabeth reached the door she froze and turned back around.

"What is that matter with you?" Elizabeth asked bluntly.

Hermione groaned inwardly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that these are the two most popular boys in school. They have the best grades. They are the most handsome and they have the most promising futures. And they both are interested in you. You've gone out with both of them but you still seem to be so uninterested. Why?" Elizabeth crossed her arms and stood at the door resolutely waiting for an answer.

"I-" Hermione began. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Because!" Hermione suddenly felt overwhelmed. "Because!" she repeated. "I can't tell you anything! Don't ask me!"

Elizabeth looked stunned by this sudden outburst. She moved closer to the bed.

"Artemis, are you in trouble?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands and shook her head vigorously, her short bushy hair shaking along with it.

"I'm fine," she said though her hands. "Please, just go."

Elizabeth stood by her for a moment, obviously debating with herself what to do.

"Artemis, I can help. What is it? Is it schoolwork? Do you miss home?"

Hermione did not answer. She only continued to hide her face behind her hands and shake her head.

"Is there anyone I can get? Would you like me to get Tom?"

"Just go!"

Hermione heard Elizabeth leave and shut the door quickly. She uncovered her face and lay back into her pillows. She was exhausted. What had she gotten herself into, receiving the mark? How could she spend the next three days with him? Where were they going? She did not want to suffer his wrath any longer.

Hermione felt like she was losing it. She was desperate. She was terrified of him and wanted to return home, but at the same time she knew that even if she managed to defeat him and returned home nothing would be the same because _she_ had changed. Everything had changed. She was ruined.

What would Harry have done? Or Dumbledore? Or Lupin?

_The right thing, obviously_, a little voice inside her head chipped in.

But what is the right thing? How could giving in to Lord Voldemort's wishes possibly be the right thing?

_What other options do you have?_

Avoiding him at all costs.

_What will that accomplish? You'll only get farther from his Horcruxes and will do nothing about the soul inside of you._

So be it. She had to find a way to destroy him. She had to continue with her plan. Which meant she had to get up. It was noon.

Hermione sat up and stared at her luggage. She had only packed hygienic materials and a couple changes of clothes. It all fit nicely into a small purse she had magicked to expand internally. She stood and picked it up, clutching it to herself as though it were her only possession in the world. She moved out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase. She saw Elizabeth whispering with Victoria and stop abruptly as she walked by. Hermione ignored them and continued on, exiting through the portrait hole and headed to the Entrance Hall.

When she arrived he was standing there dressed in his uniform and a light cloak. His face was expressionless as she approached. They did not acknowledge each other or make any sign of greeting, but only turned in unison and walked out the front door. They walked the length to Hogsmeade in silence, Hermione not daring speak for fear of learning something she did not want to know and Tom too lost in thought to pay her much attention.

When they finally reached Hogsmeade Hermione was surprised to see Tom leading them to the Three Broomsticks instead of to the Hog's Head. But once they reached it Tom instructed her to stay outside and wait for him. Hermione only felt a slight annoyance at this considering she was used to much worse from him. He reemerged with a bottle of butterbeer in his hand. He handed it to her.

"What is this?" she asked, staring in surprise from the bottle to him.

"What does it look like?" he replied snidely as he began pulling her toward what was now their usual apparition spot behind the Hog's Head.

Hermione was left with her silent thoughts of why Tom Riddle would buy her a butterbeer before they left. Maybe he was doing it to keep up appearances. But wouldn't he have taken her inside? Maybe they were going someplace cold. He would have told her to dress warmly wouldn't he? At least he would have dressed himself more warmly, surely.

Hermione pondering over the bottle as they reached their spot.

"Just put the bloody bottle away. We have to apparate."

Hermione jumped out of her thoughts and quickly stuffed the butterbeer into her purse. She automatically grabbed his arm, waiting for him to spin on the spot and silently dreading where they would end up. He pulled her in closer and spun on the spot.

Hermione clenched her eyes as the familiar feel of turning inside out overwhelmed her.

Suddenly her equilibrium returned and Hermione opened her eyes almost reluctantly, afraid of what they might find. But her senses were telling her she was not in immediate danger. It was cool but not cold, calm but but disturbingly quiet. Hermione opened her eyes and they were met with an unexpectedly beautiful sight. They were atop a hill. The sun was high in the sky lighting the small village below nicely. A path led down the hill and across country, into the town. The town was small and filled with little cottages made of brick and wood. It was quite quaint. Smoke rose from many of the chimneys leading Hermione's eyes up to the purple mountains in the distance. She turned to Tom.

"Where are we?"

Surprising Hermione, Tom actually graced her with an answer.

"Albania."

* * *

Hermione sat on a tavern stool, gaining suspicious stares from the local inhabitants. Not that there were many. There were a handful of older men and a few younger waitresses, but Hermione noted a lack of younger men save for one sitting in the back with only half a leg. Hermione grimaced and turned back to see Tom bargain with the bartender. They had been pleased to find that he spoke a little English.

"Running away?" the man asked Tom in a thick accent as he handed him a room key.

"What makes you say that?" Tom asked as he pocketed it.

"You look recruiting age. I have seen English come through here as they move East to run away from the war. That is why there are not many young men here. They have run or the Germans come and make them fight in the war But you have found a woman and you do not want to leave her." He nodded to Hermione.

Tom did not answer but only took Hermione's arm to lead her upstairs.

"It is safer to move on quickly," the man advised as Tom and Hermione made their way to the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Hermione glanced up to check Tom's expression. It was nonplussed and she knew he must be cursing muggles in his head right now. She frowned and looked up the stairwell. It opened up into a narrow hallway lined with doors. It was very quiet, no doubt because it was noon and most people would be out, and there were probably not too many residents of the little inn anyway.

Tom stopped infront of a door and Hermione stopped with him. He unlocked it with the key and Hermione wondered why he was bothering and not using magic. Tom seemed to read her thoughts because he answered her internal question out loud.

"I do not want to leave traces of magic behind us. I'd rather no one know wizards were here." And he stepped back and allowed her to enter the room first.

It was small, only one room... the washroom was down the hall for the use of the floor. There were two twin sized beds with a night stand on top of a rug between them. There was one window that gave a view of neighboring buildings and cottages and the cobble-stone road below. On the table there was a lamp and matches to light it. Obviously electricity had not reached this part of Europe quite yet. No matter. Hermione was used to its absence due to wizards never using it.

She approached the twin bed nearest to the window and set her purse down on it. The quilt looked hand sewn and for the first time Hermione was really struck by the fact she was really in the year 1944. This village made it so obvious. She had not realized how much Hogwarts had stayed the same over the years and how dramatically muggle's lives had changed since the time of Tom Riddle. Hermione sat down and stared at Tom. The trip had been peaceful so far and she thought she should do everything in her power to keep it that way, including checking Tom's moods. By now she had surmised what exactly he was up to. They were in Albania and as Harry had informed her, the last Horcrux they had found had been found by Tom Riddle here. The diadem was located in a forest here. Somewhere.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small satchel, which he laid upon his bed nearest the door. He opened it and pulled out a small map he opened and peered at with calculating eyes.

She cleared her throat.

He looked up at her.

"What are we doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I expected you to know. Certainly you with your infinite knowledge of my life should know why Albania is important."

Hermione blushed slightly.

"That's not what I meant," she snapped. "Why are we in this town? I couldn't see any forests nearby. Isn't that what we're looking for?"

His eyes returned to his map.

"The towns nearby our final destination are occupied by Axis forces. I would rather avoid getting in the middle of a stupid muggle war, wouldn't you?"

Hermione huffed. Why had he insisted on bringing her along with him?

Tom stayed silent for a few moments longer before setting the map down before him and looking up at her once more.

"We have work to do before it gets dark. And we have a bit to travel. We should be setting out now."

Hermione stood. They were setting out on a quest to find Ravenclaw's lost diadem, a magnificent and historical artifact that she was now assisting the Dark Lord to turn into something evil and horrid.

"On second thought..." Tom looked at her pensively. "I would rather you stay here."

Hermione was shocked. He had dragged her to another country so that he could leave her stranded in a shabby little tavern while he went off to search for Horcrux-vessels-to-be?

"Don't give me that look," Tom said almost grinning. "If you feel left out I assure you you are not missing anything. I'm only going to see if I can find the right forest. I'm saving the actual work for tomorrow. Your role will come then."

Hermione frowned remembering what her role had been last time he had created a Horcrux in her presence. He moved to the door.

"Try and stay out of trouble while I'm gone." And she knew that was a command rather than a request.

He shut the door with a click behind him and Hermione was left alone in the small room with nothing but her purse. Not even a book to amuse herself with. Her mind was still reeling over the absurdity he would leave her by herself. It did not seem like him. Hermione was immediately suspicious. But she was also tired and slightly relieved to be rid of him. The best way to spend the time apart from him was to get some well needed sleep. Hermione sighed and spread herself out on the twin bed, which was soft and warm. The outside light did not bother her and she closed her eyes and her whirring mind began to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Hermione was woken up by a loud bang. She jumped and sat up quickly, not knowing where she was. There was a lot of noise coming from below her and Hermione rubbed her eyes trying to figure out what was going on. It was dark and she heard music. It was a few moments before she remembered that she was in fact in Albania and the noise below must be the tavern. She looked outside. The sun must have set hours ago. She made her way through the dark to the lamp and felt around for the matches. After a few frustrating minutes of failing to find any, she pulled out her wand and tapped the darn thing with it. The lamp lit up, filling the room with light. She looked around for signs of Tom. None. Not a sign of him. Unless he was downstairs he had not returned at all. And he did not seem like the type to rub elbows with muggles in Albanian pubs.

She sat back down on her bed again wondering if she could just fall back asleep and not have to deal with Tom until the next morning. But the music and noise below were too loud. Hermione groaned and finally stood heading toward the door. She might as well entertain herself while he were gone.

She made her way down the stairs and emerged in the pub. The "band" was a small group of older gentlemen playing a guitar, a set of spoons, an accordion, a piano, and a washboard. The women outnumbered the men naturally since many of the men had fled or were at war. The women ranged from young to old, but the elder women were paired up with older men as well. The younger women were either paired up with themselves or a boy too young to be off to war yet, but old enough to be allowed past sunset. It was the oddest party Hermione had ever seen. And she had been to Slughorn's parties.

A boy came up to her and started talking rapidly in Albanian. Hermione looked surprised.

"Er- sorry. I don't speak—" but the boy had moved away already. Confused, Hermione moved to the bar and sat down on an open stool.

"Did your man leave you?"

Hermione turned to see the same bartender standing there staring at her with a glass in his hand.

"Oh! No, no. He had business to deal with. I stayed here to rest."

The bartender nodded.

"He was in a hurry when I saw him. I see him and he was out the door. Quick!" he made a rapid motion with his arms. "I hope I did not scare him earlier."

Hermione shook her head.

"There isn't much that scares him," she confessed.

"He seems that way." The bartender nodded. "Would you like I make you a drink?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I don't have any money," she said apologetically.

The bartender shrugged.

"I do not have much business. The women and boys who come here do not drink as much as the men did. I have much liquor. I can spare some."

Hermione did not want to refuse his offer since it was so kind of him to give her a drink for free during these times.

He set a glass of whiskey on the table in front of her and she thanked him and began sipping the glass. It burned and she coughed a little. It had been _ages_ since she'd had a drink. And as the whiskey slid down her throat she remembered she had not eaten anything since breakfast. She was not particularly hungry but she knew it was not good to drink on an empty stomach. Oh well.

She gulped down the whiskey and was surprised to find that her glass had been filled again. The first glass had made her slightly dizzy but nod dangerously so. She wanted to refuse it but the bartender had already moved away and was yelling at a group of teenage boys who had been on the threshold of a fight. Hermione shrugged and began sipping her second glass.

Two girls around Hermione's age down sat on her either side. The one on her right began speaking in Albanian.

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated herself. "I only speak English."

The girl on her left began to speak now.

"I can speak English. Janus is my father," she said pointing to the bartender. "I learn from him."

"How does he know English?" Hermione asked relieved that someone she could relate to better knew English.

She giggled.

"He fell in love with an English woman when he was young. He learned for her, but she left him anyway. But he teach me in hopes I will find an English man."

"Teaches," Hermione corrected, amused.

She smiled and nodded.

"I am Annea," she introduced. "And this is my friend Rina." The other girl waved.

Suddenly, the boy who had approached Hermione before appeared and pushed himself in front of Annea.

"Hello," he said to Hermione, grinning. Annea pushed him away.

"And this is my annoying little brother." Hermione laughed.

"I'm Her- uh, Artemis." The alcohol was making her brain fuzzy and she noticed that Janus the bartender had once again filled her glass.

"My father said you are eloping!" Annea said with excitement in her eyes. Rina began speaking excitedly in Albanian again.

Hermione blinked at her confusedly. "I'm not eloping. Oh! You mean with Tom. No, we're not engaged."

Annea frowned.

"Are you together with him?" Rina was behind Hermione trying to keep up with the conversation.

"I- well- we," Hermione was trying to find a way to explain the relationship between her and Tom as truthfully as possible without going into details. "Yes, I suppose we are together."

"And he is not marrying you?" Annea looked stunned.

"Ok, sure. He's marrying me." Hermione really did not want to deal with judgment from outdated social constructs right now. She did not have the energy and was not exactly of sound mind at the moment to debate women's rights and power and blah blah blah...

Hermione finished her third glass of whiskey. She was thoroughly dizzy now, having not had a drink in well over a year.

Annea and Rina talked over her head for a minute before Annea began showering her with questions about her wonderful English man.

Hermione answered patiently, her mood picking up. She told Annea that Tom was smart, attractive, and had a lot stored in his future. It was almost fun to pretend she were in a normal relationship as she sipped on whiskey in a foreign country.

Annea's brother returned and starting talking to his sister. She snapped at him in Albanian and he argued back with her. Annea rolled her eyes and turned to Hermione.

"He wants to dance with you. You might as well just to make him go away. He is harmless."

Hermione heard herself agreeing and the eager teen grinned and took her hand, pulling her to the floor. The band was playing an upbeat folk song and the people around her were dancing quickly and joyously. Hermione's clothes certainly stood out, but no one seemed to really care.

Annea's brother was younger than her but still taller. He was fairly cute but still too young for her anyway. He took her hands and began leading her around the floor. Hermione noted that she had had too much whiskey for this sort of activity. It was fun anyhow. The alcohol had already made her warm and her cheeks were flushed as she spun around quickly. He was harmless like Annea said. He twirled her about and Hermione laughed. But she could not seem to shake Tom out of her thoughts. He was still this foreboding presence in the back of her mind and no matter how drunk or distracted she was, she could not forget about him.

The song ended and Annea's brother began talking to her in Albanian again. Hermione figured he was asking her for another dance. She shook her head and he looked disappointed. He shrugged and leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Hermione laughed and started to move away. She looked up and saw Tom standing at the doorway of the tavern.

He did not look too happy.

They walked toward each other, their eyes locked, and met halfway, Hermione swaying slightly.

"Hello, Tom," she said forcing the words out a bit too strongly because they felt strange on her numb lips. "Did you have a successful day?"

He sneered at her.

"You're drunk," he said sniffing the air.

"Yes!" Hermione said a little too excitedly.

He gripped her wrist and began pulling her along with him. Hermione let out a little whine of protest.

"Don't be so grumpy!"

As they reached the stairs Annea and Rina showed up grinning from ear to ear.

"Artemis! Is this—" but they were cut off by Tom pushing past them and dragging Hermione up the stairs.

Hermione looked back to see their shocked faces.

"That was rude!" Hermione said trying to get out of Tom's grip. "They're my new friends!"

"Shut up," Tom snapped and pushed her into the room. He closed the door shut behind him.

"No, really!" Hermione protested as she stumbled into the room and straightened up. She paused for a moment while her head spun. As soon as the floor stopped moving she continued. "They were really nice."

Tom ignored her and approached the table where the lamp was still burning. He peered down at it for a moment.

"I told you I did not want any traces of magic left behind us," he said angrily, looking back up at her.

"Oh don't worry," Hermione said stepping closer to him. "No one ever finds out you were here. Except me!" She started giggling and grabbed the front of his cloak. He looked disgusted at her.

"They talked about you the _whole_ time," she said leaning into him. "They wanted to know what you were like and what you looked like and if we were going to get married."

Tom pulled a face.

"I know!" Hermione said, her eyes growing wide. "That's what I thought! But then they looked all terrified as if I was a complete slag for _being_ with you and not marrying you. And I wanted to tell them I wasn't really with you but then that would have been a sad lie and they were so nice! So I told them we were getting married, which was a happy lie."

And Hermione started giggling again, this time resting her forehead on Tom's chest.

Tom grabbed her arms and moved her across the room to her bed.

"So then you went and danced with someone to make yourself look like even more of a slag?" he said harshly as he plopped her unceremoniously onto her bed.

"He asked me," she said in protest. "And he was _young_. So no competition." She reached up and patted his face. Boy, she was really pushing his limits. That made her giggle again.

Surprisingly, Tom only moved away and sat on his own bed, staring at her with a mix of annoyance and interest.

"How much did you drink?"

Hermione sat up and the room spun.

"Woah. Um." Hermione thought for a moment. "I lost count after three. Janus was so nice too!" Hermione said growing excited and standing up. "He gave them to me for free!"

Hermione stumbled forward and found herself wrapping her arms around Tom's neck. Well, she may as well stay there... and she sat herself on his lap, both legs facing the same direction. He did not object to her being there but he seemed altogether nonplussed.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked seriously looking him in the eye.

She swear he smirked a bit before answering,

"Yes. I'm very angry with you."

"Don't be!" Hermione insisted. "I said such nice things about you!"

"Oh?" he said encouraging her to continue.

"Yes!" she nodded vigorously. "I said you were smart and were the top of our class. And that you were very handsome."

"Were you telling them happy lies again?" he asked. Hermione felt his hands slide over her sweater.

"No," she said truthfully. "You _are_ smart!"

"And handsome?" Tom added, holding her a little tighter.

Hermione nodded. Tom lifted one hand up to her face and stroked her cheek. Hermione's breath became more ragged as his thumb moved over her cheek and to her lips, smoothing over them and pulling the bottom lip down.

"What did you tell them my name was?"

"Tom," she said and immediately regretted it for a sharp, burning pain ripped through her starting from her mark. She cried out and bit down on Tom's thumb as the pain subsided.

Hermione groaned and collapsed into Tom who was chuckling lightly. He had been playing with her. Hermione could feel him growing hard.

Hermione composed herself, sitting back on Tom's lap.

"But I couldn't tell you their _real_ name," Hermione said. "I mean. Them yours." She had had entirely too much to drink.

"What is my real name?" Tom asked. He was no longer hiding the fact he was amused.

"Voldemort," Hermione breathed adjusting herself so she were straddling him, placing her arms on his shoulders. She let out an involuntary shiver. She felt dizzier than before and remembered that it often took alcohol longer to hit you with its full force.

"What is it," he asked quietly, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Voldemort," she repeated leaning into him.

And the next thing she knew, she was pinned beneath him on his bed with him kissing her neck hungrily.

Hermione pressed herself against him and moaned.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Hermione," he growled into her neck.

"I haven't!" she protested and squealed loudly for at the next moment he had bit her lip hard, drawing blood.

He kissed her roughly and Hermione moaned again as his tongue battled hers. Her hands moved down his chest to the bottom of his shirt as she attempted to remove it. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down painfully. And for once Hermione enjoyed it. The alcohol had numbed her judgment and she was able to be really honest with herself. God, she _wanted_ him.

Tom bit and kissed Hermione's lips until they were swollen and red. He moved back to admire his work and she let out a noise of protest. He was surprised to see her so eager, though he was not disappointed.

"I'll have to get you drunk more often," he said unbuttoning her blouse.

"I want to see _you_ drunk," she insisted. She giggled at the thought of a drunk Voldemort.

"I don't drink," he said as he pushed open her shirt and saw that her bra unhooked in the front. What a marvelous idea.

"Of course you don't," Hermione said sarcastically. "What was I thinking. Why would Lord Voldemort drink? Oh!"

Hermione's teasing was cut off by his mouth on her breasts. _Where_ had he learned to do that?

Hermione moved to grab his hair but discovered he had pinned her arms down yet again. She proceeded to whimper instead as he drove her crazy, running his tongue over her soft skin. She lifted her hips, grinding them into his. She felt his breathing grow heavier against her.

He moved away from her breasts, much to Hermione's dismay, and moved back up to her neck.

Hermione wanted to touch him. She struggled with her arms, but he had her pinned down good.

"Now, now, Hermione," he said, his lips inches from hers. "Badly behaved little girls do not get to touch."

"I haven't been bad," Hermione insisted, the alcohol still dulling her mind.

"I think you have been," he said, but he let go of one of her hands as his own slid down her side reaching her skirt. Her free hand automatically went to the back of his head to tangle in his hair and pull his lips down to hers.

He bit her lip hard again and she gasped letting him pull away.

"See?" he said silkily. "You have been very bad. I've let you have far too many liberties." His hand was now at the bottom of her skirt, working its way underneath.

He placed his face against hers. "You've been conspiring against me," he breathed, his breath tickling her ear.

Hermione did not say anything, but only pressed herself more into him as his fingers reached her knickers.

"I really don't think you deserve this," he said as his fingers pushed them aside and began to rub circles into the sensitive skin there.

Hit by an onslaught of sensation and emotions, Hermione groaned and began kissing whatever of Tom she could reach. His fingers continued to work, stroking harder and firmer after each passing moment. Hermione felt pressure begin to build. Tom worked his fingers into her and Hermione cried out,

"Tom!"

And let out a scream as the pain from her mark burned with an even greater intensity. It subsided quickly, however, and Hermione could feel Tom's fingers pumping into her even faster as his eyes gleamed. The shift from pleasure to pain and back to pleasure was completely perverse and she thought that Tom rather enjoyed it.

But the pressure between her legs had only grown as the pain left and she found herself grinding against his hand, pulling at his hair and biting his neck, desperate to go over the edge. As soon as Hermione felt she were about to reach the top, Tom pulled away.

Hermione let out an angry cry and Tom laughed.

"You didn't earn it," he sneered at her and she sat up quickly, gripping the shirt at his shoulders firmly and pushing him backwards so he were laying down. He did not protest this new position but he did stare up at her challengingly.

Hermione let out a frustrated groan and smashed her lips down onto his, coaxing them open and slipping her tongue into his mouth. He responded willfully, running his own hands up into her hair. Hermione debated forcing them away in order to punish him like he had her, but she decided she rather liked it and let him keep his hands there.

At first, Hermione directed the kiss, but soon they were kissing each other with equal enthusiasm. Hermione forgot, momentarily, what it was she had been planning to do to him. She was getting caught up in just kissing him. It was possibly the first time they kissed without testing, tricking, or attempting to hurt the other. And it appeared Tom was getting into it as well, breathing heavily into her mouth and pulling her hair tightly.

They stayed like that for a long while, Hermione becoming increasingly dizzy though the alcohol had started to fade. It was not until Hermione realized that the aching need in her was only growing the more they did this rather than subsiding that she pulled away. She stared at him for a long moment, panting heavily and studying his face, which was flushed with heavy eyes.

There were no words between them as Hermione sat back and Tom sat up. She watched him nervously realizing the weight of what had just happened. He looked at her and Hermione could almost see his thoughts flash across his eyes. She stayed very still.

And suddenly she found herself pinned underneath him once again with her skirt pushed up to her waist. She barely felt him rip off her knickers and in the next moment he had released his erection and entered her. Hermione breathed in sharply and arched into him. He moved quickly and Hermione thanked Merlin she had already been so wet. He placed his arms on either side of her head as he worked, thrusting into her until she were moving against him in rhythm to his movements. Hermione rolled her head back and Tom proceeded to bite her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, and move up again, biting her cheeks and her lips.

Hermione feebly attempted to kiss him back but was too far gone to focus on anything other than the pressure building between their bodies once again. Hermione lifted her knees and wrapped her legs around his back, allowing him to move further into her, producing a satisfying effect for the both of them. Hermione could feel her mark tingling subtly.

Tom was not out to make this slow and romantic. He was pushing himself into her forcefully, he was trying to hurt her. Hermione had grown used to Tom's aggressive ways a long time ago.

They continued to move together until Tom lowered himself onto her, no longer holding himself up by his arms. The new proximity between them allowed Hermione to tighten her legs around his waist and increase the tension. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly to her as he buried his face in her hair.

Hermione felt him tense and clenched herself around him, making him groan and increase speed as Hermione felt her own orgasm grow. He was so close and Hermione felt it.

He had not even asked her to, but lost in sensation Hermione found no harm in parting her lips and whispering into his ear,

"Voldemort."

And that's what did it for him. Tom cried out and emptied himself into Hermione who arched and was pushed over the edge.

Tom felt the orgasm overwhelm him completely, white light flooding his eyes. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Hermione sighed and let him lie there, reveling in her own post-orgasm.

They remained like that for a long while until Hermione felt him roll off her. She was sure he was going to push her away and make her return to her own bed. She tensed, readying herself for it until she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her to him. Hermione was too exhausted to argue, but was shocked nevertheless, the alcohol having worn off allowing her to think sensibly.

She settled into him, listening to his breathing slow and settle as her own thoughts pondered what had come over him and whether or not it would last and whether or not she should enjoy it. These thoughts muddled and calmed as sleep overtook her overactive mind and she drifted off into dreams of mountains and butterbeer.


	26. The Diadem

Hi there! :D I told you guys I would never abandon the fic! There's only about 4 or 5 chapters left so even if it takes me the next 3 years to finish it I will! But I'll try not to take that long. Wow I can't believe I haven't updated since 2008! But of course college is college. I'm skipping calc hmwk to submit this.

I hope my old readers are still around and I hope my new readers are enjoying the fic! I have been overwhelmed by the reviews! (in a good way)

It is the reviews that keep me interested in updating. Otherwise I probably wouldn't bother since I know what happens. But you guys don't! So I want to update. Seriously the reviews mean a lot. While reviews don't change what happens plot wise they do help me stay true to the characters and also give the readers what they are looking for. Sooooo... what do we like to do? (Review! Review!) Thanks!

The song I use as the opening poem is a fabulous song. Please find it on youtube. The music is gorgeous and enhances the lyrics. I listened to it pretty much the whole time i was writing this chapter. It has a bit of a Beatles influence to it. speaking of the Beatles, don't you all love how the world has gone Beatles mad lately??? I'm loving it! You all know I love the Beatles considering I named 2 chapters of this fic after their songs. Ok ok fic time. As usual forgive the typos. My laptop actually does not have spell check.

Disclaimer: Jo, all of this belongs to you!

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Five: _**The Diadem**_

When we first met we were kids, we were wild, we were restless  
And after a while, I grew coarse, I grew cold, I grew reckless  
I hold this memory, hold you so close to me,  
whispered were we always happy  
Lately it feels like i'm asleep and I just can't wake up  
Pacing the floor, want to call, but I can't so I hang up  
Sharing a secret on the train with a lady  
who's crying has ruined her make up

Now I see just how young, how scared I was  
Eyes closed tight, throwing punch after punch at the world  
Sarah, is it ever gonna be the same  
Sarah, is it ever gonna be the same

Said goodbye to all the places I used to go  
Said goodbye to all the faces I used to know  
Nothing lasts forever  
I guess by now, I should know I should know

There ain't a thing I can say that will ever repair  
And you, who had so much advice, and yet couldn't share  
Maybe someday, we will look back at this and we'll  
smile, but right now I can't bear

Now I see just how young, how scared I was  
Eyes closed tight, throwing punch after punch at the world  
Sarah, is it ever gonna be the same  
Sarah, is it ever gonna be the same

--Sarah; Ray Lamontagne

* * *

"I could stay here you know."

"And have you rush off and snog another foreign man?" Tom snapped up the collar of his cloak with a flourish. "I think not."

"He was hardly a man," Hermione protested as she combed out her hair.

Tom smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself.

Hermione ignored this and went about cleaning herself up as he dressed. It was still dark outside. She had woken when Tom had. They had a long journey ahead of them. After the previous nights events she was less inclined to be sharp with him. He had been uncharacteristically warm, proving that the multiple splitting of his soul had not completely erased all sense of humanity from him yet... not that this mattered to her. All she cared about at the moment was cleaning his scent off of her. Under the bed was a water basin and an old rag. She wrinkled her nose, but she had dealt with worse. She picked up the crude metal basin and went to fetch water from the small adjacent bathroom.

"You may as well use magic," Tom said eyeing her. "We've already left traces. It would be better to continue using magic so as not to appear that we were poorly trying to cover it up. That sort of thing attracts suspicion."

Hermione considered him and shrugged. She picked up her wand from the bedside counter and pointed at the basin. Immediately it began to fill with water and steam. The rag brightened, mended and sprang to life. Hermione began to disrobe. She looked over her shoulder at Tom.

"May I have some privacy?"

Tom almost did not hear her request. Her honey brown hair had grown since he had shortened it during Transfiguration and it was spilling over her pale shoulders. He noticed there were freckles scattered over the smooth skin as she began to remove her robe.

"What?" he asked snapping his eyes back up to her face. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Privacy? As in alone time?"

Tom scoffed. "Really, I don't see why you continue to put up this act of modesty considering how many times we've—"

"Voldemort!"

Tom stood, hiding a smirk. "I will return here shortly. You are not to leave this room."

She didn't speak but just waved her hand at him impatiently, signalling she would obey him. He left the room and shut the door with a _click_. Hermione was relieved to be alone again.

Something had shifted the night before. It had not been like the other times. Every other time they had been in that situation one had been trying to control or hurt the other. Not that the previous night had not had its power struggle... but with Hermione in a vulnerable state and really not an immediate threat.... She had let her guard down. She would like to have said that he had taken advantage of her, but why would Lord Voldemort find the need to do that? He was above such things. No the truth is _she had come on to him_. Hermione blushed at the thought as she cleaned herself. Oh, she had initiated sex before. Right after he had split his soul for the third time she had provoked him and tried to draw a reaction out of him. It had been a test and an experiment. At least initially. And of course that had ended with him realizing she was in cahoots with Dumbledore and really just wanted him dead. Not quite the ideal end of a passionate bought of love making.

No, the alcohol, as is the nature of the drug, had dulled her fear and lowered her defenses. She had been honest with herself. She had wanted him and made it clear to him that she had. He had no need to take advantage of her. There was no hidden motive to what they did last night. There had been no lies between them. They had slept together simply because they had wanted to. It had almost been normal. To Hermione that was the strangest bit.

Hermione finished with the water and vanished it, drying herself off with a conjured towel. As she dressed she stared out the window. The sun had risen. It was a lovely day. If she and Tom were indeed a normal couple they would probably still be in bed. They would have woken together lazily and gone and eaten breakfast before going sight seeing in the country. Spring was breaking and the air had that chill of a winter still trying to cling on to its throne. Hermione loved that weather. The sky was clear. She sat on a chair by the window, her eyes drinking in the distant mountains. It had been her's and Tom's first night away together.

She lowered her eyes to the ground and saw Tom returning to the inn. She stood and put on her cloak. The door opened and he simply held it for her as she passed through. Hermione felt very sober now, the weight of what was to occur pressing down on her. As she passed Tom their eyes met. There was no longer any teasing or gentleness in his dark eyes. She reflected for a second whether they were brown or indeed black before looking away and heading down towards the steps to the tavern. On her way down the steps she passed Annea. She was greeted with a smile.

"Good morning!" the cheerful Albanian said. "Was everything fine last night?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, everything was fine. Tom was just tired from... well, whatever he did yesterday." Hermione laughed but the sound felt strange in her throat.

"Are you leave today?" Annea asked.

"Yes, I think so," Hermione said slowly. She almost wished she could just stay here.

Annea gave her a hug. "Good luck with the elope."

Hermione hugged her back, not sure why she began to feel guilt settle upon her.

"Annea!"

Hermione and Annea broke apart as they heard Janus call for his daughter. Annea waved to Hermione and rushed down the stairs. Hermione felt Tom move behind her and they went down together. As they passed through the tavern to exit Hermione saw Janus speaking rapidly to Annea with a worried expression crossing his features. Annea did not look too concerned but still spoke quickly back as she made the universal sign for "I don't know." This unnerved Hermione.

Tom and Hermione stepped out into the light. The low sun caused shadows to stretch across the countryside. There was a light breeze. Tom began walking west. Hermione frowned as she followed. In the distance she could see trees looming. She looked behind her wistfully to the east, wishing they were heading toward the mountains instead. She felt Tom's hand on her arm and turned to face him. He gave her a look that warned her to keep up. She quickened her pace. They walked in silence for a long while each in their own thoughts. It was a familiar silence. They did not need to speak to each other to know what the other was thinking. The grass on either side of them was tall and untamed; Some green, some yellow. The lack of bitter air was enticing the ground to produce more life and Hermione could see the beginnings of wildflowers. The trees loomed larger along their path.

It was not much longer before they were at the edge of the forest. Hermione began to feel sick. She knew the events that would take place in that forest. After the last time she had witnessed this ritual she was not sure she could handle it again.

But this was part of Tom Riddle's plan for immortality.

And as perverse as it sounded this fit in to Hermione's plan too.

She needed him to feel secure in his immortality... even if it meant he must create another Horcrux... even if it meant he had to kill again.

Hermione felt cold, she tightened her cloak around her shoulders as they neared the thick mangle of trees. Her head swam with anxiety and thoughts.

But he would kill again whether or not she provoked him! Even if she had not unsettled him and planted the seed of doubt in his mind of the safety of his Horcrux, he would have killed again! He had already spoken to Slughorn about the possibility of creating seven Horcruxes and he had created another, the locket—Hermione internally groaned as her thoughts came to a halt. He had created the locket Horcrux because he had seen the locket in her thoughts those many months ago, and then he had proceeded to turn the family heirloom into a Horcrux after she had fed him the potion mixed with her blood... something he felt threatened by, even if he did not fully understand her motives.

They reached the foot of the trees. The great oaks reached their bare branches up toward the sky. Even without their green bounty they still blocked it from view. Hermione cast a last wishful glance over her shoulder at the purple mountain horizon. It really could have been a lovely trip...

She turned her attention back to Tom. He was not stopping, he was not looking at her. He was continuing into the forest with a look of set determination and he expected her to follow obediently behind him... there was no time to waste.

With the memory of the previous night still fresh in her mind, Hermione entered behind him knowing full well that they would emerge from the forest changed.

She stopped. He paused and cast an annoyed glance at her. She approached him cautiously fully aware of the fact that he was creating this Horcrux prematurely because he felt threatened by her alliance with Dumbledore.

"Tom?"

* * *

He really did not understand it. Why would she continue to call him by that insufferable name when every time she did his mark would demand she did not? He watched her double over in pain momentarily before she groaned and straightened up. Honestly the girl could be so fool hardy and stubborn.

He waited quietly for her to compose herself, not quite in the mood for taunting or bickering. They were wasting enough time already. He watched her steady herself, her breathing ragged. But her eyes were clear as she looked at him. He looked away into the forest. They had a bit to travel still and this forest was much thicker than the Forbidden Forest. It held more perils as well. There had been a reason Helena Ravenclaw had been attracted to this forest.

He felt her hand on his and flinched at the gentleness of the touch. His eyes snapped back on hers, set and hard. If she thought that the previous night had given her any liberties....

Her hand released his and moved up to his cheek.

Really she was getting much too bold.

She took a step closer to him to lessen the distance between their bodies.

She knew what they were there for, so why did she insist on prolonging the inevitable?

Her other hand moved slowly up his chest and rested behind his neck.

Unless she was getting some sort of thrill out of the whole thing, in which case he was having more of an impact on her than he thought.

She lifted slightly on her toes, their bodies completely touching now.

He wondered momentarily how it felt to her to hold his soul. He remembered when they had first met feeling the pulsating rhythm attached to her ribs.

He felt her breath tickle his face before her lips met his.

He thought that kissing her was something like the Imperius curse.

... Which she has had the courtesy to cast on him before...

But he let her have her kiss. Before long she would be upset with him again and the both of them would be without kisses for a long while. Not that he minded.

Tom moved his gloved hands around her waist and pulled her closer still. Her lips moved over his softly and he responded in kind before nipping her lower lip to allow his tongue entrance. May as well do the thing properly. The heat of her mouth contrasted the cool air slipping through the trees. He breathed into her.

They stayed like that for a long while before he felt her intensify the kiss. The heat seeped through him now and his hands ran up her back. But just as suddenly as she had deepened the kiss she pulled away. He was caught off guard as she moved back, her eyes glittering. He quickly regained composure and looked away again towards their path. The trees were casting short shadows.

To both of their surprise it was Hermione who spoke first.

"We should get moving. It's almost noon."

Tom felt a tug of irritation at the back of his mind but chose to ignore it. None of this would matter in a few short hours...

Determined to regain control of the situation Tom grabbed her arms forcefully and pulled her along with him, his wand at the ready.

"Stay quiet," he ordered, though she had not spoken.

The previous day as Hermione had inebriated herself Tom had scoured this forest for signs of magic. He had found many. This forest was very similar to the Forbidden Forest in that it was the home of a number of magical creatures. He had not had a run in with any but there were signs all around them: a strand of unicorn hair hanging from the brush, a doxy wing attached to the bark of a tree. Deeper into the forest he had come across the leg of an Acromantula and wondered if this could be the forest that bred the beast for which Hagrid was expelled. In any case, running into a family of these giant arachnids would certainly slow down their mission.

He was confident the forest held more dangerous creatures than doxies and unicorns, perhaps more dangerous than Acromantulas. But the diadem was likely not at the center of the forest. The vapid Gray Lady would not have had the courage to venture into the darker depths of the forest. It was likely she did not even make it very far before the Bloody Baron had found her. No, the trail Tom had picked up the previous day led him only a quarter into the forest. She had been careless; the Baron would have had no trouble following her trail. Obviously the child of a famous and wealthy witch was used to luxury and comfort and made no sacrifices as she camped out in the forest. The leaves underfoot, dampened and flattened by the winter snow, made no noise as he and Hermione made their way.

As he moved, his senses open for any signs of danger, he watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. He could tell she was beginning to sense the growing aura of magic. He could almost see her own vibrate a bit, her hair tended to expand slightly when it did. She was a curious case, still full of many secrets despite his efforts to terrorize her. She still did not fear him like the others... in fact her fear seemed to have lessened the more time she spent with him.

That irritated tug pulled again in the back of his mind. He felt Hermione flinch in his grasp and realized he had tightened his hand around her. She raised an eyebrow at him and he loosened his grasp.

It was not like what they had done while she was drunk helped the matter either. What had started out with him enjoying her eagerness had turned into him losing himself in... well... in _her_. That was not something he was familiar with. He had dated a minimal number of girls in his class, only two before Hermione, of high repute for appearances. They tended to be the more popular girls of his house. He had courted them and shagged them and then found a way to get rid of them. The first he had chosen simply because he knew her parents were involved with politics and would be transferring to France within the year. The second, and he was quite pleased with himself for this one, he had tricked into cheating on him with Mulciber. He supposed he could have just ended it simply but really he did not want to invoke the wrath of the female population and it had been too much fun to pass off. Any woman he had had by his side was expendable and Lucretia had become too proud.

Unfortunately he did not have that luxury with Hermione. She must remain near him due to the importance of what she held. Besides she was quite intelligent and a fantastic shag. But that only increased the problem. He did not like relying on another person for anything, let alone his immortality, and their intimacy made him closer to her still. Unfortunate indeed.

The trees were old, the bark was a deep brown. As they moved, the ground they walked on became more bare, the trees around them looked more blackened. Tom recognized where he was. He paused at a fat oak. Its width was easily the size of several great trees put together and its height equaled several men stacked on top of each other; though, Tom noted, it was not the tallest tree in the forest. It was an ugly thing, large and looming, it's branches mangled like giant splinters. It almost looked dead contrasting the trees he and Hermione had passed at the entrance of the forest, which had already begun to bud new blooms. The trees around it looked limp while this tree, though bare and charred, looked strong.

"Is this—" Hermione began.

"No," Tom said sharply cutting her off. "This is not where she hid the diadem." He moved slowly around the monster of a tree. "This is further than I traveled yesterday. Her trail strengthened along this path but then disappeared completely at this point."

Tom placed the tip of his wand on the tree where the bark appeared the blackest, just near the foot of it.

"I do not think her trail ends," he mused aloud, more to himself than to Hermione. She was studying the tree herself. "I think the tree is interfering with the scent of magic." He traced his wand up and over the base of the tree. Even at Tom's fullest height his arm barely stretched to the middle of the tree.

"It's absorbing the energy around it," Hermione said, her eyes wide.

"Including magic," Tom added. He pulled his wand away from the dead bark.

"We shouldn't stay here too long."

Tom looked over at her and noticed her complexion had paled. Her lips, usually a vibrant red, had dulled to a slight pink. The aura that had been crackling around her with the growing presence of magic seemed to have gone. He was suddenly aware of his own drop in energy.

He took a step back away from the tree and Hermione followed suit.

"We should split up to find where the trail picks up," Hermione suggested, rubbing her hands together and looking around the forest.

Tom felt a surge of energy.

"We are not splitting up!" he snapped at her as they began to make their way around the tree and beyond.

"It would be faster!" Hermione said surprised that his calm, which he had been so successful in keeping had broken.

"Is there a certain birth defect in Gryffindors that their recklessness clouds their judgement?"

"We have our wands," she said ignoring his jibe. "I've been watching for signs of nesting of dangerous creatures and there haven't been any so far. Besides we're not far enough into the forest to be in immediate danger." He could see her face was colouring.

"But we will be."

"Only when we discover her trail again! We can signal each other when one of us picks up the trail, which should not be much farther from this point."

Tom stopped facing away from her. His jaw was clenched. It was against his every better judgement to allow her out of his sight. Though... they did not have the luxury of time. They had to find where the trail picked up soon or return. If they did not complete their task today they would not be able to until after graduation and he was not sure he was willing to risk waiting that long. If they did not complete the task he would not be able to ensure the safety of himself or of Hermione. He turned to face her.

"If there is any sign of danger—"

"T—"

In a swift movement his hand was over her mouth.

"Stop wasting time!" he barked. "If there is any sign of danger you must contact me through your mark. Understand?"

He could see fire dancing in her eyes but she nodded slowly. He uncovered her mouth and stepped back, looking around the forest. The dead tree was already behind them.

"I will continue this way," he said gesturing in the direction they had already been walking. "You will continue in that direction." He pointed to their right.

Hermione nodded and turned to go. He grabbed her arm. "Remember..."

"The mark, I know," she said impatiently but he was relieved to see her eyes showed sincerity.

He released her and she moved away from him, wand upright, walking in his ordered direction. He was apprehensive as he watched her retreating back.

"Hermione!" he called.

"Voldemort!" she called back, not turning around or stopping.

Cheeky bitch.

He almost followed her.

Almost.

* * *

He had not been traveling long. The trees, however, grew more dense; the sun could not be seen. Even the wind was not penetrating between the thick trunks. Tom held his wand more tightly. He could sense traces of magic here, though they were very weak. Perhaps further on...

"Hello."

Tom hated,_ hated_ himself for the fact that at that moment his blood ran cold. Whatever had startled him would surely pay dearly...

He turned on the spot, his wand clutched in his hand. What he saw did nothing to warm the temperature of his blood.

The beast was no larger than a mountain lion and its front paws mirrored exactly that. Black paws with sharp nails stretching out from legs attached to a broad panther-like chest. Its torso shifted smoothly into its hind legs, taken from a cow. The same with its head. The creature was adorned with ears like a bovine but out of place were two great horns, like a rhinoceros, stretching from its face between lidded eyes. Most grotesque still was that face. It was almost human, eyes and nose, similar to a human but stretching out like a snout, its mouth turned awkwardly into a distorted grin.

A bicorn, Tom mused to himself. Most useful in potions for its horn, though this fact did not help him much now.

"You are very young," the demon continued in a feminine voice. Her paws and hooves made their way toward him slowly.

Tom did not speak. A bicorn would only eat a full grown male. If he could convince her he were otherwise...

"Very handsome too. I am sure you have a pretty wife at home." Tom could see her teeth were all fangs, perfect for a carnivore. Tom found his voice.

"Thank you," he said keeping his voice steady. "But no. I am still in school." She was still approaching him cautiously and he willed himself not to back up.

"Charming." She began to circle him. Tom felt his temper rise.

"I am surprised," he said evenly, trying to keep her distracted. "that you speak English so well for an Albanian bicorn."

She stopped circling him and faced him. Her body came up to his waist, her head reached to his shoulders. She grinned a hideous misshapen grin.

"Charming," she repeated. She stretched her neck to get a better look at his face. Tom's hand tightened on his wand. "I am very old. I have heard many languages. Many men have been through here." She let out a sort of growl.

Something gripped in Tom's stomach as his mind whirred. If she spoke many languages how would she have known to speak English to him?

"She is very pretty," the bicorn said, tilting her head to the side, studying his face. His eyes, which had remained cool and objective thus far, must have flashed at her statement for she continued, "Do not worry. I do not eat women. I leave them for my cousin."

Tom kept every note of dread out of his voice.

"Does your cousin live with you?"

"No," she replied. "She lives on the other side of the forest."

He had to move.

"Give your cousin my regards," he said coolly. "My apologies but I must be going." He made to step around her. She cut off his path.

"I can smell her on you," and Tom could see her nostrils flaring. "I smell her scent." Tom stood very still. "And the way you worried for her. A fine husband you will make."

Tom was done wasting time. He lifted his wand. The monster took a step back.

Tom moved slowly around her toward the path he had just traveled, keeping his wand raised and his eyes dark. Her human-like eyes showed hesitation and a flicker of fear.

"Fine, fine. I see you want to get back to her. On your way then."

Tom watched her turn and bound into the forest, moving in the opposite direction. He turned toward his path and ran.

Fear was an ugly thing. He felt weak as he ran back toward the place he had last seen her. He swore that he would one day expunge all feelings of it from himself once and for all.

If the bicorn had not been lying then Hermione could be in grave danger as well. A chichevache was an insatiable beast and was not easily intimidated.

As he reached the place they had separated he calmed. He felt a hush around the forest. The light shone dimly through the trees as the afternoon wore on. It was getting dangerously late. He looked around him and saw the dead tree once more. He stilled and watched it for a moment. It was an ugly thing but it was strong and proud. It probably would live longer than anything else in this forest. Nothing could destroy it because it simply took the energy from anything near it. Its defense was its manipulation. The tree controlled everything around it. What a fantastic specimen.

He was pulled out of his musings as he felt a sudden burning sensation on his forearm.

Hermione was either summoning him because she had found where the trail resumed or because something deadly had found her. He started moving in the direction he felt the mark tug him.

He had only gone two steps before he heard a guttural growl from behind him. He raised his wand and spun on the spot, ready to send a curse. He was not quick enough and he felt two sets of claws dig into his chest as he was knocked onto his back. His head smacked the ground.

Unable to think or breathe, he did the next natural thing: he dug his wand into the side of his attacker. He heard a shriek and felt the pressure lift off of his chest. He moved as quickly as he could, trying desperately to inhale again.

But the beast was angry and he could hear it charging toward him again. He blinked stars out of his eyes and cast a nonverbal spell. The bicorn was blown back. As Tom regained his breath he could see her writhing on the ground trying to regain her footing. He cast another spell, trying to stun her but she had gotten to her feet and bound again. He stepped back and his foot made contact with a root. He fell backward, landing at the foot of the dead tree. The bicorn landed in front of him. She approached him snarling. He could see her bleeding from the side.

"Rushed back to save her?" she hissed. "I would not be surprised if my dear cousin had not eaten her already!"

More furious than afraid, Tom tried to lift his arm to kill the demon but he found he could not. The tree had begun to steal the power from him. He could feel the hot, sticky breath of the bicorn as she leaned over him.

"I have not had wizard in years."

He could feel the metal of the locket, warmed by his skin, pressing against his heart, fluttering madly. It too would soon be a lost treasure of a founder of Hogwarts hidden in this forest.

"Kill me then." He swore he would possess this demon first as he searched for a new body and would suck the life from her.

She stepped on his chest, crushing him to the ground as she lowered her head. He clenched his eyes.

* * *

...But he felt no pain. The crushing weight was lifted. He suddenly felt nothing but he could still not move his body. It was as though he could only feel his mind. He still had his curiosity but he was calm. He wondered if this was death. But he could not die. So what was this? Could he see?

"Voldemort?"

He twitched. He _moved_. So he did still have a body after all.

"Voldemort?" He could feel a cold hand on his face. He opened his eyes.

His vision was blurred but he could see it was Hermione above him. He saw relief break over her face that was gone the next moment. What a bizarre relationship they had.

He was aware that he was warm. He moved his arms and realized he was in a bed. He turned his head quickly and saw that night had fallen outside the window. They were back at the tavern. Without the diadem.

He had failed.

He did not have the energy to rage. Hermione gave him a concerned look. He closed his eyes, not wanting to speak. He heard her move away from the bed and heard something clink against a hard object.

"You were asleep for a long time," she said. "It's midnight already. That tree," He heard her shudder.

"What happened to the chichevache?"

"What?" he heard her voice etched with confusion. He did not care to repeat himself. "Oh!" he heard her voice after a moment. "No, what attacked you was a _bicorn_. Part of the same genus as the chichevache but a different spe—"

Tom opened his eyes.

"I know what a bicorn is!" he snapped. "She said she had a cousin on the other side of the forest."

Hermione's brows knit together.

"I never saw a chichevache. Only the bicorn that attacked you."

"Then why did you summon me?" he asked impatiently. He closed his eyes again. He had returned from his search to find her. He had left the trail that could have led him to the diadem in order to make sure his most vulnerable Horcrux was safe. And what for?

She did not reply but he heard her move away again.

"What are you—?" he opened his eyes and froze. It were as though another bicorn had knocked his breath out again.

Hermione was standing in front of him holding the diadem gently in her hands.

Tom sat up sharply. He reached out slowly, controlling himself, and took the crown from her hands. He felt the cool metal slip across his fingers and held it up to the light. Eagerness and greed etched his face. It was nothing how he imagined. It was a simple tiara. It was fashioned from silver with a small line of sapphires stretching from one side to the other. Years of neglect had weathered it. It was tarnished and dull. No matter. This was a treasure that once belonged to a founder of Hogwarts. Rowena Ravenclaw herself had created this tiara... it was one of the most valuable objects he now possessed, certainly worthy to contain a piece of his soul.

He did not hear Hermione leave the room. It was only a little while later when she returned that he set down the diadem. He looked at her.

He could see that she was pleased with herself though was trying very hard to hide it. He grinned at her.

Her expression changed immediately to one of concern. She crossed her arms.

"T—Voldemort..."

_Oh_, she meant _business_.

"How did you find it," he asked before she had a chance to speak again.

She frowned.

"It was not much further from where we started. The trail was difficult to follow. It was pretty much non-existent for a long while. Really, Helena had much more skill than you gave her credit for." She gave him a sharp look, which he ignored. "I was almost ready to turn back before the trace of magic became overwhelming. She must have been in a great hurry to stash the diadem. It was just sitting in a hole in one of the larger trees. There were _squirrels_ in there with it. Honestly."

"And how did you find me?" he asked quietly.

She coloured slightly and moved further into the room.

"Well, it was taking you a while to come. I assumed that if I summoned you that you would be quick about it thinking I'd found something or that I were... er... that I were...."

"In trouble?"

"Yes," she said hotly looking down at him on the bed. "And you did."

"How did you get me away from the bicorn."

"When I found you..." she paused. The colour drained from her face. "Most spells didn't work. They were too weak to get through the bicorn's hide."

Tom waited, his eyes showing interest. "So I really had no choice." Her eyes looked toward the diadem. "I used it."

Tom eyes widened. He was not sure whether to feel anger or admiration at this admition. He was, however, alive because of her decision.

"What power did it give you?" he asked, a flicker of jealousy crossing his face.

Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"It wasn't a power, really," she said thoughtfully. "It was more like... it made my thoughts more clear, almost as though I had taken a swig of Felix Felicis... except I didn't know _exactly_ what I was supposed to do or that the outcome would be positive. I just... knew what the most _logical_ step would be in order to accomplish what I wanted."

"And what would that be," Tom asked smoothly.

Hermione's jaw was tight as she spoke.

"The killing curse."

Tom felt a thrill go through him. This situation was certainly turning more in his favour at each passing minute. He decided to forgive her for using his diadem.

"How did you bring me back here." It was a simple question he did not need to ask but he decided now was not the time to press the topic of the curse. She had not used it on a human after all and in her mind she was justified for using it in defense of another. The topic would come up again at a more opportune moment. He could see the thankfulness in her face as she continued. This almost made him change his mind about dropping the issue.

"I levitated you back most of the way. I had to carry you some of it because of muggles. Janus saw me eventually and helped. He was out looking for his son, which I wanted to ask," the seriousness had returned to her eyes. "do you know what happened to him?"

He ignored her question, his eyes returning hungrily to the diadem he had placed on the bedside table. It was then he noticed something else laying beside it.

"You- you took the horns?" his voice was filled with admiration as he looked back at her. She had killed _and_ collected? She narrowed her eyes at him.

"They're very valuable ingredients...." she muttered.

Tom laughed and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her deeply.

* * *

"It has been _two_ nights. _Two_."

"I told you it doesn't matter," he said impatiently. She was pulling her clothes on hurriedly, which annoyed him greatly. For once he was content with what he had accomplished. The task had been completed successfully. He still needed to turn the diadem into a Horcrux but he now had the means to do so. He wanted to sleep in.

"We are _returning_ to school. Do you realize that _NEWTs_ are only two months away?"

"Only dragons have the acute hearing to know what you're saying," he yawned.

"Please, Voldemort!"

He rolled over. She looked frantic, scurrying about the room for her clothing and toiletries and stuffing them into the tiny enchanted parcel. Well, she had been such a good servant lately.

He got up and dressed. As soon as they both were ready they moved down the steps into the main bar to leave.

Tom placed his key on the counter, nodding shortly at the bartender. He moved away quickly, ready to return to Hogwarts. He had taken a few steps when he realized Hermione was not at his side. Annoyed, he turned and saw her staring toward the bar with a look of utter desolation etched on her face. What was the problem? He followed her gaze and saw that she had been watching the old bartender. He looked weary and downtrodden, the cheer that had been in his face was gone.

"Hermione," Tom said sternly.

She shook out of her thoughts and moved toward him slowly, not looking at his face.

He narrowed his eyes as she passed him. A servant and a Horcrux but she still could not let go of her emotions. She had aided him in gaining the diadem knowing the purpose it would play but she was unwilling to accept all the necessary actions required to make a Horcrux. Another reason, he believed, that he remained stronger than most.

He placed a hand on her back as he guided her back to their apparition point. He noted that the mountains in the distance held a certain intrigue before he spun them on the spot.

* * *

The walk back to the castle was a quiet one. Hermione could not speak. Her heart ached. Only an hour previously she had been concerned with tests. She had forgotten about the missing boy. She felt sickened. Tom had not mentioned a word to her but she knew. He did not have to tell her.

The mood between them had shifted dramatically. The tone, which had been calm, almost light, had now returned to the bitter tolerance to which they were accustom. Hermione almost regretted pushing him to leave. But then she remembered Janus's face and shivered. She never wanted to think about Albania again.

She could sense him watching her carefully, but she did not care. She gave up trying to hide her anger from him. He knew her well enough by now.

As they pushed through the double doors into the Entrance Hall Hermione picked up her pace, heading toward the Great Hall. Everyone would be at lunch right now and if the teachers were going to kill them for their long absence they may as well do it now sooner than later. She rather welcomed it.

She felt Tom's hand grab her roughly.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed at him, trying to yank her arm away. He only tightened his grasp and pulled her to him. Anger was evident on his face. His eyes flashed and red showed.

"You are my Horcrux and my servant!" he whispered harshly into her ear. "You will listen to me and do as I say!"

She stilled but glared hatred at him. He held her gaze and she could see the emotion slipping out of his as it became cool and hard once more. She felt his fingers intertwine with hers on her left hand. She gasped as she felt something liquid hot bubble and wrap itself around her ring finger. Her expression widened and she pulled her hand away. She raised her hand to her eyes to examine his magic. A white gold ring had wound its way around her finger. He lifted his right hand and she saw the same had appeared on him.

"What do you—"

Taking advantage of her shock, he grabbed her and pushed her toward the Great Hall. He opened the doors and the two of them stepped into the room full of students eating their lunch.

At first there was a loud noise as students chatted with each other merrily, but soon a hush began to creep along the tables. Every eye turned to look at the new arrivals. Suddenly whispers spread around the room. Hermione's eyes snapped at once to the teacher's table. Armando Dippet had already stood as well as a couple of other teachers, including Dumbledore.

"Tom! Artemis!" Dippet said loudly in shock. Dumbledore's predecessor had not been one for subtleties. "Where the blazes have you been? We've had the Ministry searching the country for you!"

Hermione saw Tom place the most disgusting smile on his face she had ever seen. He blushed. _Blushed_, and lifted her left hand to show the school.

"Sorry, Professor. But," he made sure both of their ring fingers were presented. "we eloped!"

There was a stunned silence before Dippet's face broke into a smile and the rest of the Hall relaxed and began to cheer.

Hermione's eyes snapped onto Dumbledore's. His expression of disapproval was too much for Hermione to bear. She looked away.

She was numbly aware of fellow students and even professors shaking her hand and offering congratulations. She smiled and thanked them quickly. Tom passed this off as being blushing bride syndrome.

In the back of her mind Hermione knew that none of this mattered. Her plan was still in effect and nothing he could do at this point could changed that. But as Victoria and a line of girls shook her hand giving her fake and jealous smiles while Dumbledore stood in the background shaking his head and Tom placed sweet kisses on her cheek that were completely out of character....

She just wanted to scream.

* * *

Authors notes:

A chichevache is like Hermione said. It's in the same genus as a bicorn but is a different species. One eats women, the other eats men. The bicorn and the chichevache are medieval demons. Rowling writes that the powered horn of a bicorn is used in Polyjuice potion.

And I do hope you guys didn't expect me to keep it sweet? ahahaha Long chapter and I have the other chapters pretty planned out. Some exciting stuff coming up! Stay tuned!


	27. Simple Gifts

So I'd like to clear some things up. Firstly, I had no idea the Death Eaters were called at one point the Knights of Walpurgis. (snickers) I'm somewhat grateful that I overlooked this. JKR announced this in an interview she did in 2003. I just found out while doing some background checks on the original Death Eaters. It was Tom's hat tip to Grindelwald, but since that dark lord no longer exists I think I will stick to Death Eaters.

Also, Abraxas Malfoy was not one of the original Death Eaters. I've been getting a lot of requests to bring him into the story. As far as I know Abraxas was never a Death Eater. He was just sympathetic to the cause, which is what led to his son joining, I'm sure.

And I do not think Blaise Zabini is a girl. Haha. I wrote in Victoria Zabini as an ancestor of Blaise. Like a great aunt. But I have never mistaken JKR's character for anything other than male.

Since I take such long breaks between chapters I have to go back and reread what I've written and it's always painfully obvious to me that I wrote the first 20 chps when I was still a teenager and just super into those dangerous romance pairings.

Well, hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Six_: __**Simple Gifts**_

_Be to her, Persephone,_

_All the things I might not be:_

_Take her head upon your knee._

_She that was so proud and wild,_

_Flippant, arrogant and free,_

_She that had no need of me,_

_Is a little lonely child_

_Lost in Hell,—Persephone,_

_Take her head upon your knee:_

_Say to her, "My dear, my dear,_

_It is not so dreadful here."_

Prayer to Persephone

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

* * *

Armando Dippet had simply insisted that the rules regarding male and female students' living quarters be waved in the case of married couples. Hermione would have to move into Tom's private dormitory. Not only this, but Dippet had recruited the Charm's professor to expand the room in order to make the already spacious room more comfortable for the newlyweds.

The students had insisted, demanded almost, a recreation of the wedding. Tom had politely declined this before Hermione had the chance to impolitely decline it. They had eloped for a reason, he insisted.

Upon their arrival back at Hogwarts Hermione had thrown herself into her schoolwork, studying for the NEWTs with fervor. Tom expressed how compelling he found this to the rest of the student body.

"The fact I was able to pull her away from her studies at this time of year to marry is proof itself it is true love," he joked.

Their marriage was widely accepted and a topic of gossip and discussion for both the staff and student body.

Hermione had been avoiding Dumbledore at all costs. She knew he would want to talk to her after the initial shock of Tom's pronouncement had worn off. There was nothing she could say to him. Truly, at this point what could be said? So she locked herself up in her room, her and Tom's room that is, and buried herself behind books to avoid the gossip of students and the disappointed stare of Dumbledore. Avoiding Tom was laughable. Since they shared quarters now he was a constant presence. He had, however, given her space. It seemed to Hermione that he was adjusting to having a female in his living quarters as well. It pleased Hermione to see him at least a little bit uncomfortable. Since she spent most of her time in the room, he was spending most of his time out of the room except for evenings and mornings when, as he described to Hermione, the rest of the school would be expecting them to be in "the throws of passion."

But there had been very little passion since they had returned. Hermione had made it perfectly clear that she would not touch him the very first night back and Tom had not pressed the matter. He had become as distant as she. Hermione suspected this had to do with the closeness he had allowed himself with her during their weekend getaway. He would allow himself to get close to her only to pull away again as soon as he felt his control slipping. She had learned to expect this from him. She wanted to slap him for it. Wouldn't it be simpler if she and Tom could honestly express themselves? If he could simply tell her he was afraid of commitment and love? And she could tell him she had fallen for him despite the fact that he was the foulest person she had ever met? Yes, things would be simpler then. In theory.

But Hermione was facing a more serious problem. It was one she had not foreseen and she kicked herself for overlooking it. How could such a simple thing become such a big problem? You see, Tom Riddle and Artemis Morgen had been cordially invited to the Minster's Ball. A select number of students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been chosen to attend this elite social gathering. It was a chance for those with means and power to scope out and choose who will have means and power in the next generation. It had been no surprise that students with family members within the ministry had received invitations. These students' invitations had hardly received much attention from the student body. No, students were turning their attention to the more popular underdogs: Longbottom and Riddle. Algie Longbottom could hardly be called an underdog considering the wealth his family came from. But his family had little political power and considering his talent it was not believed he had bought his way into the Minister's favor.

Hermione's problem laid in the fact she and Tom would be expected to appear together at the Ball as husband and wife and considering how difficult it was for her to play the part as a loving wife within the walls of Hogwarts she did not think she would be very convincing for a full night of business and romance.

* * *

Tom had been rather nonplussed when he received his invite. He had not been surprised. He had expected the invite to arrive. Really he would have been insulted if he had not received an invite. However, he had no interest in meeting with anyone from the ministry. He knew they had already expressed an interest in him starting his fifth year. Dippet had made that perfectly clear during holiday feasts by not-so-discreetly hinting he may one day be minister of magic. Dippet had never been one for subtlety.

But Tom had already decided that a future of rubbing elbows with puffed up political figures was not in the books for him. He had no patience for kissing bottoms. He was highly ambitious and very noncompetitive. He had no interest in vying for a place at the top of the political totem pole by making nice and playing the game. No, he'd rather just take it. His skill and birthright already bequeathed the position to him. The charlatans and frauds that now held authority over the magical world were weak and simple minded. And to make it worse they thought they were doing him a favor by inviting him to this Ball. They thought they were giving him a foot in the door. How naïve of them.

But of course he would attend. Not attending would warrant unnecessary attention. He had already drawn enough attention to himself with his scandalous elopement. It would not be wise to snub the Minister or give anyone cause to think he and Artemis were not doing well. As soon as the invitation had arrived he had sensed apprehension from Hermione. Her attendance at this event was essential to their image as a couple. Forcing her to go would only lead to her bad temper throughout the night. That would have an adverse effect on his reputation. No, unfortunately he knew what he had to do. He had to woo his wife.

"Hermione?" his voice was disgustingly soft. He almost cringed.

She shot him a look of hatred and indifference from the newly expanded common room couch. Ah, that made things easier. He moved down the steps that led to their bedroom. He saw her stiffen as he approached. He settled himself on one of the arms of the couch as he continued, "I presume you saw the invitation to the Minister's Ball?"

She sniffed through her nose as though she had smelt something foul. "I have," she said simply without looking up from her book. He grinned.

"Have you decided on a dress?"

She gave him another look of confusion and annoyance. "Not really," she replied.

"Because you really can't wear the same thing you wore to Slughorn's holiday party. Some of the same people will be in attendance and that would be rather embarrassing on your part. And you were definitely noticed in that dress considering the spectacle you made of yourself…"

That got her attention. Hermione gapped at him and he had to contain a laugh.

"Only because _you_ decided to poison me!" she hissed. "Why, did you want to wear it this time?" she snapped, her cheeks flushing. He let the laugh escape his lips. Now she was making him _want_ to woo her. He let himself slip off the arm of the chair and slide next to her.

"Silly, Hermione. Wizards don't wear dresses," he explained simply. "I thought you may not have had this foresight considering your breeding."

Hermione made a move to get up and he shifted himself so his arms were on either side of her, pinning her in place. She sat still breathing heavily and shooting curses at him with her eyes.

"And for this reason," he continued. "I took the liberty of buying you a new dress robe."

Her gaze turned skeptical. "What do you know about witches' robes?" she asked.

He straightened up and pulled out his wand. With a flick the dress appeared, hovering in midair before her. Hermione was stunned momentarily. She had been expecting a disaster but instead she was facing a beautiful gown that fitted not a school girl but a grown woman.

She stood to inspect it closer. Tom watched her triumphantly. She gave him another look of annoyance for good measure before approaching the full length gown and running her hands over it. It was simple, really. It was a deep burgundy, a color that would bring out the natural pinks in her skin and fitted her House perfectly. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline. Unlike her holiday gown the dress did not have a full skirt. The fabric was light and flowed straight down to the floor under an empire waist cut; a design that would sit modestly but attractively on her hips. The high waist was decorated with tiny crystals that circled all the way around the dress underneath a runched bodice.

"How did you—"

"Come now. It really wasn't that hard to ask the witch at the dress shop to help me select…"

"—afford it!"

For once Tom was caught off guard. He had not expected her to question his monetary assets. He was not a rich wizard by any means. In fact in normal standards he was quite poor. But he was not aware this concerned her. He felt a stab of irritation.

"I never have trouble with money, Hermione," he said darkly.

Her eyes wandered away from the dress momentarily to settle on him.

"Where did you get the money for this?" she demanded.

Tom steeled himself. He was supposed to be wooing her so he bit his tongue.

"I sold one of the horns of the bicorn," he said raising an eyebrow. "Borgin was willing to pay a good price for such a rare ingredient."

Hermione's look of suspicion melted into one of surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again quickly, turning back to the dress. He watched her as she inspected the dress further studying the material with her hands.

"You didn't have—"

"Yes, I did," he cut in. "There was no way you could have afforded a gown appropriate for this occasion. We both receive the same charity fund from Hogwarts. I am aware it does not include a budget for balls."

She remained silent as she took hold of the dress. It fell limply into her arms. She giggled.

The noise made Tom want to gag and laugh at the same time.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice growing impatient.

She shook her head and laughed again, folding the dress neatly over her arm and heading toward the stairs.

"Hermione…" his voice warned.

She was halfway up the steps before she turned back to look at him with a wry smile on her lips.

"It's just that," she paused to laugh again placing a hand over her eyes. "It's almost as though we're normal!"

"Pardon me?" Tom did not seem pleased with this accusation.

"Here we are!" she chuckled again and turned away from him. "Arguing about money!" She climbed the rest of the steps and turned the handle to their bedroom. "Like a regular old married couple!"

Tom could hear her laughter through the door as she closed it behind her. This was not the reaction he had expected or wanted from her. But at least, he mused to himself, she liked the dress.

* * *

Hermione felt her arm sear with pain. She gasped and clutched it, clenching her eyes tightly.

_What could he possibly want at this time._

Hermione had been seated in front of her wardrobe mirror finishing her makeup for the ball. It had been a week since she had been presented the dress and after additional coaxing from the student body and Professors she had decided that attending the bloody thing would not be so awful. Tom had been on his best behavior after all, staying out of her way and alleviating his bullying somewhat. This actually worked against her. It was her job to make sure he felt secure in his immortality but insecure around her. The past couple weeks of marital tolerance were not part of the plan. Attending the ball may spark some unpleasant albeit necessary controversy.

Hermione snapped her foundation shut and rose, exiting their bedroom.

"Voldemort, I am right upstairs. There's no need to burn my arm off."

She stepped out onto the landing and immediately regretted doing so for at the foot of the stairs all gathered around a black cloaked Voldemort were six Death Eaters. A murmur of laughter flittered around the circle, not because of what she had just said but because she was standing in front of them in nothing but a short and semi-sheer camisole. Hermione's cheeks burned. Her eyes snapped onto Tom, whose face was blank and expressionless.

"We are gathering for a meeting, Artemis," he explained coolly. "I recommend adorning the proper attire."

She swore she saw his lips twitch at that last statement. She turned on her heels quickly and dashed into her room, but not before hearing a rather loud catcall follow her.

She furiously grabbed a plain black cloak from her wardrobe and pulled it on over her neatly set hair, not caring that it would now be ruined.

When she reappeared in the common room she could tell the men were trying to contain their snickers. She was surprised to see that Tom seemed to be enjoying all the commotion she had caused. She had expected him to be furious at her or at least furious at them for treating her so crudely.

"Now, gentlemen, please. We must focus. We have business to discuss." His voice sounded light.

Hermione's eyes darted between the faces of Tom and his Death Eaters. She saw the admiring looks they cast on their Lord versus the smug and dominant expression worn by Voldemort. He was _bragging_.

Hermione was feeling mutinous. Tom must have sensed this because he quickly began talking.

"There is a ball tonight," he began, the tone of his voice quickly lowering. "And among us only Artemis, Lestrange, and myself have received invitations to attend."

The mood in the circle darkened significantly.

"Have I chosen the wrong men to join me?"

The question hung heavy and awkward in the air.

Voldemort began to pace slowly before them, watching their faces intently.

"This annual ball selects the brightest of the graduating class and places them before the Ministry to judge for themselves whether or not they really are worth the time and effort. A party that is more exclusive than, say, a silly school fraternity like the _Slug Club_," Tom added a mocking tone to these last two words. "So what do you think?" Voldemort stopped pacing and faced them.

The heavy silence continued.

"No thoughts? None?" His face was stoic and calm but Hermione could feel his anger rising the longer the silence ensued. She braced herself. "What do you think, Rosier?" he asked turning to the boy, a hint of his anger beginning to shine through. "Do you think that you and your friends should have proven yourselves more fully?" He stepped passed him. "And you, Avery?" Voldemort's wand was drawn now as he leaned closer to the boy almost his height. "Do you think Lestrange should be congratulated? Mulciber?" The group of men stiffened.

"_Crucio!_"

Lestrange fell to the floor screaming in pain. The circle of men jumped back an entire foot in surprise giving the boy room to writhe. The Death Eaters appeared too stunned to do anything but watch as their comrade struggled.

Voldemort lifted his wand swiftly and Lestrange fell silent, twitching on the floor. Voldemort turned to the rest of his Death Eaters.

"Five men who seem too incompetent to receive the Ministry's attention and one who seems too ambitious for his own good." He turned back to Lestrange. "Is it your wish to be judged by a room of Ministry pigs that have soiled their bloodlines with halfbreeds? Do you think because your father has connections with the Ministry that you are prearranged a position of influence?" Voldemort was standing still but his eyes had gone almost wild. "I am the heir of Slytherin. The blood and magic running through my veins is purest. No one has greater claim to power than me!"

The Death Eaters were rapt with attention. Hermione was sickened to see that the same looks of admiration that had plastered their faces only minutes earlier when Voldemort had been showing her off were still glued in place.

"Do you think that your father with his halfblooded mother has the right to judge whether_ I_ am worthy of joining _his_ ranks?"

Lestrange was whimpering on the floor.

"That was not a rhetorical question, Lestrange."

"No!" Lestrange half screamed.

Voldemort seemed to settle. The room was still except for the soft sounds of Lestrange's sobs. Voldemort stepped closer to Lestrange who flinched. Voldemort kneeled next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We do not have the luxury of choosing the family we are born to," he said softly. "Your father, of course, wants only the best for you and for himself. He will gladly take advantage of any opportunities given to him. It is not a crime to do so."

Lestrange was looking up into Voldemort's eyes now, breathing heavily.

Voldemort continued. "It would be a shame if you were to forsake the opportunity I am giving you here. With us," he gestured to the rest of the Death Eaters. Hermione felt disgusted that she was included in this gesture. "Your father would be quite disappointed if he knew what you were passing up if you were to leave us to chase illusions of grandeur. Don't you think?"

Lestrange nodded his head slowly.

"The Ministry's false power pales in comparison to my birthright. We are your family, Lestrange. I am your father."

Lestrange was nodding more vigorously now, his eyes bright with gratitude as he began to mutter. "Yes, my Lord. Thank you."

Voldemort pulled back and stood, pulling a shaking Lestrange up with him. The crowd of Death Eaters began to close in tighter again, as though reflecting this sense of familial obligation. Hermione remained where she was.

"Antonin," Voldemort addressed the larger man. "Please take Lestrange to the Hospital Wing. I'm afraid he won't be feeling well for the rest of the evening."

Dolohov nodded and stepped forward, placing his hands on Lestrange's shoulders and guiding him toward the entrance. Lestrange gave Voldemort a little bow before exiting the room. Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from sneering.

Voldemort looked to the remaining Death Eaters. They were holding their breaths.

"Now if the rest of you would excuse me I have to get Artemis into a ballgown. As you saw earlier it may be a little difficult."

The men let out a laugh like a sigh of relief.

As the men exited Hermione did not move. She stood embarrassed, angry, and disgusted. Tom did not even look at her as he passed to move up the stairs to their bedroom. She wondered if he had forgotten her until he turned at the top of the steps to look down at her.

"Fix your hair," was all he said before entering the bathroom to shower.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the massive fireplace the Ministry had constructed specifically for travel to and from the Ministry. Floo had been her least favorite method of travel in the past but apparently if you were someone of importance there were ways of making the process less sooty. Tonight Tom and she were people of importance.

Hermione's dress had fit her better than expected. The waist sunk into her curves and flared out perfectly. She wore her hair up again but this time with a few bottom strands curling over her shoulders and around her face.

Tom stepped smoothly out of the fireplace behind her and stepped beside her. They had not spoken since the meeting and Hermione really had no interest in starting now. If she were to act as though they were a happily married couple she highly doubted she would be speaking very much at all this evening. She felt Tom take her arm and guide her down the vast, glossy hallway leading to the Atrium. Couples and individuals were stepping through Floo portals around them as they walked. Hermione could see the glow of the Main Hall and naturally gravitated in that direction. Before she had a chance to enter into the party she felt Tom's hand tug her sideways. She looked at him quizzically and he nodded toward a door on their left. She gave him a skeptical look and he rolled his eyes.

"I won't bite," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Because your word is so reliable," Hermione snapped.

"I have something for you," he said and let go of her arm, walked toward the door, and opened it, holding it open for her.

Hermione followed and entered. It was only a security guard's office. Nothing special. She turned to face him as he entered himself and began to pull a rectangular blue velvet box out of his pocket. He handed it to her and she took it gingerly, half expecting it to shoot poison. Hermione had to admit that Tom was one of the few people she had ever met that could continuously surprise her. Inside the box was a short diamond necklace. Hermione could feel her eyebrows hit her hairline. She looked up and Tom was right in front of her. He picked the necklace up out of the box and moved behind her, sliding the few strands of hair out of the way. His fingertips brushed her shoulders softly. He pulled the diamonds around her neck and latched it securely. Hermione noted that he could have done that much faster with magic.

Her hand reached up to feel the necklace. It rested just above her collar bone. She turned to face him. He stood silent watching her in the faulty lighting of the security office.

"How—"

"Don't spoil the moment, Hermione."

It didn't matter anyway. She just wanted to get to the ball. He was watching her too intensely and that was never a good sign.

"Thank you," she said simply and moved toward the door. She was relieved when he opened it for her and moved swiftly out heading back toward the glow of the Atrium. He followed behind her.

The wide hallway ended and in front of them was a large wall that did not connect to the sides of the room or the ceiling. She placed her arm in Tom's and he nodded to her before they stepped through the wall.

The giant fountain immediately demanded their attention as soon as they were on the other side. The awed magical beasts were there surrounding the dazzling witch and wizard. Hermione's mind immediately flashed back to her last visit to the ministry. At the time she had not quite been herself but had been disguised as Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione was pulled out of her musings by a voice.

"Artemis! Tom!"

Hermione turned to see Professor Slughorn walking toward the pair of them, his belly jiggling with every step. Tom spoke first.

"Hello, Professor," he said calmly and cheerfully.

Slughorn was beaming at them.

"There's been a lot of talk around about you two. Very much indeed," he said rocking back and forth on his feet excitedly.

Hermione suspected that he had been the one encouraging the talk.

"Well, after Dippet had alerted officials about your absence," Slughorn continued, "there had been an immediate interest. After all, Tom's name has been circulating around the ministry for quite some time now anyways…"

Tom smiled a humble grin.

"And with Aurors investigating the disappearance of the rest of Artemis's family…"

Hermione felt her stomach clench immediately. The ministry had been investigating her? What would happen if they discovered there had never been a Morgen family?

Slughorn must have noticed Hermione's sudden panic because he quickly added,

"But that's not a topic for tonight. My apologies, Artemis."

Hermione breathed a little easier and gave a meek smile.

"No apologies necessary, Professor."

Slughorn seemed to recover quickly enough.

"Of course the Minister is interested in meeting the pair of you. Particularly, you, Tom." Slughorn gave a Tom a little wink. "Of course they've got their eye on Longbottom as well, but I would rather see a little more green in the ministry myself, eh?"

Tom gave a light chuckle. Really, he could be quite charming.

"In fact,"

Hermione swore she saw Slughorn's head spin 180 degrees.

"I believe I saw the Minister enter with his wife… ah yes." He lit up and Hermione followed his gaze across the room. Standing amongst a swarm of older ministry officials and eager gophers was a particularly tall gentleman of about sixty. Hermione raised her eyebrows. He was rather normal looking. He reminded her a bit of the Muggle Prime Minister. He wore simple black dress robes and had a rigid but warm demeanor. He lacked the restlessness of Fudge and the aggression of Scrimgeour.

"He's been wanting to meet you, Tom."

Hermione gave Tom a sideways glance. His expression was hard to read but she knew Tom had no interest in meeting Minister Aubry. He had been an Auror for thirty years before going into politics and was passionately against the Dark Arts. And to add to that most of the reform for halfbreeds in the 20th century had begun with him. He was something of an idol to Hermione. This had been one of the reasons she had agreed to come to this ball.

Hermione heard Slughorn make a sucking noise with his mouth and turned to see him narrowing his eyes. She followed his gaze to see Algie Longbottom making a bee line toward the minister.

"Oho!"

Hermione saw Slughorn's eyes light up as he grabbed the sleeve of Tom's dress robe and began pulling him quickly toward the minister. Hermione, still attached to Tom's side, was pulled along with them. As they gained on Algie Hermione swore she felt a chubby hand knock into her and dislodge her from Tom. Hermione stumbled on her heels and knocked square into Algie. She grabbed on to his dress robe to keep herself from toppling over and she felt his arms wrap reactively around her.

"Oh! Algie, I'm so sorry!" she forced out, straightening up and righting her dress. She looked up to see him smiling kindly.

"It's alright, Artemis. I was wondering when I would bump into you tonight anyways."

Hermione relaxed and allowed herself to smile. The pair of them looked over to see Slughorn and Tom standing in front of the Minister as introductions were made. Algie frowned.

Hermione scoffed. "Slytherins…" she said in a low voice.

That seemed to cheer Algie up because he laughed and turned back to her.

"The night is young. I'm sure I'll talk to the Minister later. Besides, Slytherins can't be all bad, can they? You did marry one."

Hermione grinned at this only to keep herself from bursting with laughter.

"I never did get a chance to congratulate you properly," Algie continued. "Would you like to dance?"

Hermione's eyes flittered back to Tom for a moment. He seemed to be busy enough with the Minister. After all he did allow Slughorn to push her away.

"I'd love to."

She nodded and took his offered hand. The music contrasted Slughorn's party dramatically. Where Slughorn played music more appropriate for her age group, the Ministry played classical pieces fit for ballroom dance and light conversation. The only other time she had heard any of this music played was at the Yule Ball her fourth year. She silently thanked McGonagall for forcing dance lessons upon them.

For the first time Hermione allowed herself to take in the decorations and she danced slowly and turned with Algie. There was a theme of gold and white. The entire room seemed to glow from the shine of it. All of the women were dressed in floor length dresses similar to hers. She was grateful now that Tom had bought her a new dress. Her old one, while still very nice, could not compare to what these Ministry wives were wearing. She noted that there were no tables and chairs for people to rest in. Stranger still there were no refreshments… not even an open bar. Instead a flock of House Elves who bore no trays were scattered around the Atrium, standing still as the golden statues beside them. Her questions were answered when she saw a couple approach a House Elf and saw their lips move soundlessly. Immediately the House Elf sprang to life and snapped its fingers. Two chutes of champagne appeared and the couple took them and walked away without so much as a thank you. Hermione narrowed her eyes in displeasure.

Algie noticed her change in demeanor and followed her gaze.

"I think they put some sort of enchantment on the Elves to keep them from moving without being spoken to first."

This upset Hermione even more.

"But what if they need something? They can't even leave to get water or use the restroom?"

"I think they get short breaks every hour or so."

"That's awful."

Algie considered her.

"Yes, I suppose it is awful, isn't it. But they enjoy following orders. It's in their nature."

"Is that inherent or because that's what they have grown up being told?"

"Well…" Algie looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure. I have a House Elf and he seems to enjoy serving me. He adores me really."

"Like the creatures in that hideous statue," Hermione said nodding toward the golden centerpiece of the room.

Algie turned them so he was able to look. Hermione watched his eyes study it for a while before some sort of recognition dawned in them.

"I see what you mean," he replied solemnly. He looked at her curiously.

"I doubt that Riddle shares your views on House Elves." It wasn't a question.

"No," Hermione replied honestly. "He doesn't."

"That must put a strain on things."

"Oh, well…" Hermione was reluctant to reply. She wanted to say that House Elves were the least of their problems, but at this point badmouthing her supposed husband seemed to be a very bad idea indeed.

"But I suppose that if he can afford a necklace like that political views are easy to overlook."

Hermione gapped at him in surprise. It was the first negative thing he had ever said to her. She was not sure how to respond.

"Excuse me?"

Algie opened his mouth to speak but before he could reply Hermione heard a voice cut in.

"I think I'll be taking my wife back now, Longbottom."

Tom had split himself from Slughorn and the Minister, who were both still chatting in a friendly manner.

Algie shrugged and held Hermione's hand out for Tom to take. Tom took it immediately and Hermione gave Algie a haughty nod before turning and placing her hands on her faux husband.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

"As happy as I am to see you not getting along with Longbottom…."

"He—" Hermione paused, not sure how to explain the situation to him. "He questioned how we could be a couple when our political views were so different."

"We wouldn't be the first couple with opposing views. Why would this upset you?"

Hermione turned red. "He implied I overlooked our mismatched opinions because you could afford diamond necklaces."

Tom stared at her for a moment before chuckling. "Your sense of honor is charming. Only another Gryffindor could have known how to turn a gift like that into an insult.

Hermione noticed how pleased Tom seemed with himself. "I think he's still found of you," he said matter-of-factly.

"And you just love having what other people want, don't you?"

"I do, actually," he said pulling her closer to him.

"I would have liked to have met the Minister," she said trying to distract him.

He pulled back. "Yes, I suppose you would have." He looked over his shoulder to see Slughorn approaching them again.

"Bullocks," she heard him mutter. He pulled away from her and grabbed her hand pulling her with him toward one of the side rooms of the Main Hall. Hermione laughed.

He pulled her quickly and in the moment of camaraderie she forgot herself.

"Why are you in such a hurry, Tom?"

She thought she may have felt the freeze in him first before she felt the pain start sharply from her hidden mark and seep into the rest of her body.

She let out a yelp as her body buckled and her vision blurred. Around her she heard muted concern and Tom's voice.

"She's fine, thank you. Really, she's fine. Twisted her ankle dancing. She's alright. We'll just go sit. Thank you." His voice sounded polite but quick as she felt his hands grip her and pull her up quickly.

In the next moment they had emerged into a smaller, cozy room. He placed her roughly on the couch. As her vision cleared she saw it looked like it had been expecting them. The fire was lit and the couches looked neat and fluffed. There was even a tray of untouched glasses of champagne placed on the coffee table. She supposed that this was why there was no seating out in the Atrium. Wizards and witches could simply dart into one of the enchanted side rooms for more private socializing. But these musings were short lived for Hermione looked up to see a very white faced and furious Voldemort.

"Before you start," Hermione began, "I'd like to remind you that _you_ are the one who placed that curse on me!"

"You should have known better!" he snapped. "How many times have you made that mistake? Are you a glutton for punishment?"

"Maybe," she said. It wasn't even worth trying to be logical with him anymore.

His eyes flashed and he grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him, off the couch. His face was inches from hers. Their eyes met.

"Do you realize," he said in a low voice, "how much danger you are really in?"

Hermione's breathing slowed to a steady pace as she looked at him but her heart seemed to flutter. Or was that the Horcrux? She could not tell anymore.

"How could I not? You don't even know what you really become! I do!"

His grip on her wrist tightened and a look of wild anger flashed in his red eyes.

"Tell me what you know," he growled.

They were in a face off.

Hermione considered him. She knew really she had the upper hand. It did not matter what she told him now.

"You become powerful," she said simply. "Extraordinarily powerful."

His eyes seemed to soften as they searched hers for the truth. They stood silent for a long while as he considered her.

"Why have you returned to this time?"

That seemed like an odd question to ask.

"I did not come here. Your Horcrux sent me back."

"In order to prevent me from repeating the same mistakes."

"Yes," Hermione said calmly. "I suppose that's why."

His grip loosened.

"It's funny I would design a Horcrux to occupy whoever tried to destroy it and then proceed to send her back in time into my younger self's hands."

"I think it's rather perverse. Very fitting for Lord Voldemort."

He studied her face, giving her the same intense look he had earlier in the security office. She swallowed a bit.

"I control the Wizarding world? Through the means of Dark magic?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

"And you, a mudblood , you help those who try to destroy me?" If it were possible his gaze grew even more intense.

"Yes."

His grip on her wrist remained. He pulled her closer to him—close enough to feel the tickle of his breath on her face.

"Your existence and presence here threatens me, Hermione. If I cannot assure your loyalty I must assure more Horcruxes in the event you betray me—"

"And you have to kill me," Hermione cut in furiously. "So you will still have security even after the destruction of part of your soul." Hermione knew. This is what she had wanted. His lull into a sense of false security so he would feel the piece of soul inside of her was expendable.

"Yes. In the event I would have to kill you."

"Why don't you then?" she whispered harshly. "You've created your other Horcruxes. Four by now if I'm counting correctly. Why do you need a mortal and disobedient vessel like me? Kill me then."

He studied her, momentarily. His hand slipped up from her wrist, grazing her arm, passing her collar bone where the necklace lay, and rested on her neck. He began applying light pressure as he watched the look in her eyes. Hermione wondered if Voldemort would lower himself to killing her with his bare hands. In a way she may consider that an honor. His face was still very close to hers. They were very still.

Someone cleared his throat loudly.

The pair of them jumped and looked toward the door.

It should not have surprised Hermione that the young Albus Dumbledore had come to her rescue. She let out a breath she had not even realized she was holding.

"I believe you both have been invited in order to mingle with the rest of the ministry. I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep to yourselves just this one evening, understandable as that is for newlyweds."

Hermione blushed and took a step back from Tom who had still been holding her neck. To an outsider it could have easily appeared sensual. Tom let his hand fall to his side before giving Dumbledore a curt not and passing him swiftly. He was waiting on the other side of the door, looking at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione looked between Dumbledore and Tom. Both of them wore an unreadable mask. Not wanting to face Dumbledore's scrutiny, she mirrored her husband's nod toward Dumbledore and walked over to Tom, placing her arm in his. He steered her out onto the dance floor.

There was a precarious calm hanging between them as he placed his hands on her waist. Most couples were dancing at this point in the evening and no one paid them very much attention as Tom held her just a bit closer than the dance called for. He was giving her a look as though considering her, unsure of what to think. Hermione knew he was at odds with himself. He could not trust her yet she was incredible useful to him.

"I will take the Ministry?" he asked her with quiet excitement.

Hermione simply nodded.

Tom truly had no interest in killing Hermione. She continued to reveal more useful information. Tom's mood had lightened significantly. He did not even seem to mind when the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a well know half-blood, bumped into him drunkenly and took a full ten minutes apologizing and joking with the young couple. Finally, he stumbled on to join a senior member of the Wizenmagot.

Some of the ministry officials had become drunk through the course of the evening. They were flirting with the women and talking loudly to each other about nothing of real importance. Voldemort watched them with gleaming eyes.

"Longbottom finally found the Minister."

Hermione followed Tom's gaze to see Algie talking cheerfully with Minister Aubry and a pleasant faced Dumbledore. She wished she could join them. But as Tom spun her and the group vanished from her sight she was reminded that this was not her time. It was not her duty to aid Minister Aubry in magical creature reform and that was not her Dumbledore. She had another mission. One that would affect every magical being in her time.

Tom held Hermione close to him, confident in his superiority, and Hermione watched the look in his eyes, contemplating how the next part of her plan would unfold; the pair of them turning as they shared a dark secret.


	28. Conventional Folly

Oh mah gaaawwd. It has not been two years.

Note: conventional folly is when the cost of waging war exceeds the benefits, so waging war was a folly in the first place.

Treacle tarts to anyone who can guess what Hermione's plan is.

Also, I'd like to add if you haven't read the books and are fans of the movie, this fic may not totally make sense. There was a significant amount of plot they left out of the movies that they used in the books that is relevant to Hermione's plan. Namely, the scene in the fourth book where Dumbledore's eyes flickered with triumph after hearing Voldemort had used Harry's blood to regain his body. Also, look to the _King's Cross_ chapter in book 7. Both of these parts are kept out of the movie and never explained so sorry! I don't mean to ostracize or confuse my readers who are just fans of the movies (all are welcome), and I hope you give me the benefit of the doubt that all will be explained in time.

Bravery hides in unique forms... sometimes simply by carrying on, even when we know what awaits us at the end of the tunnel will change us forever.

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Seven: _**Conventional Folly**_

_Soft_

_Soften, love_

_No need the boiling blood of youth._

_Too heavy the burdens of present lie_

_Compared to struggles of past vie._

_Tis conventional folly simply._

_They will have what is spoiled_

_And we, _

_Yes, we, love, _

_Will sip the fruit_

Lestrange walked quickly down the corridor, his leather boots tapping against the cold stone floor. A concerned look wrinkled his brow as he rushed to share the news he had just overheard. He moved with a furious excitement, his eyes glowing with forbidden knowledge. He turned a corner and quickly dashed into an empty classroom. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

"Well?" came a voice from the corner. Lestrange turned to see Nott step out of the shadows into the dim moonlight that lit the room. "What was the news you were dying to tell me? It better be worth it." He was twirling a deep red apple in his hands. "I had to leave a particularly delicious looking Victoria all alone in the kitchens." He took a large bite out of the fruit.

Lestrange grinned wickedly. "I assure you this information is well worth your time, Theodore."

"It had better be." Nott tossed his half eaten apple at Lestrange who caught it, grimaced, and tossed it quickly in the bin.

"I overheard Dippet speaking with Dumbledore after dinner tonight," Lestrange continued with a raised eyebrow. "Apparently the ministry has not been able to find any leads of the remainder of Artemis Morgen's family."

"Well, considering the state of the ministry, their incompetence—"

Lestrange waved his hand impatiently, cutting him off. "Do you realize what this means?"

"Morgen's life is truly as sad and tragic as it sounds?"

"Morgen is under investigation as a possible supporter of Grindelwald!"

This seemed to catch Nott's interest.

"Really? Well," Nott began to pace the room slowly as he thought. "this could explain why our dear Lord has been so infatuated with her, couldn't it?"

"I hope so," Lestrange answered darkly. "Her connection with the dark arts may have given him a reason to ally himself with her. Hopefully once her usefulness has passed or she begins attracting more negative attention than she's worth, he will rid of her."

"You don't believe he has genuine feelings for her?"

Lestrange snorted. "Hardly. She may be more to him than a fuck but no one who aggravates him as much as she has can last too long. Although…" Lestrange paused, a tense look on his face.

"You are wondering why we have received punishment from our Lord when she has been repeatedly spared," Nott voiced Lestrange's thoughts.

Lestrange nodded sullenly.

"If what you say is true, if Artemis's family was truly aligned with Grindelwald, then Voldemort was being prudent to not punish her."

"But it has been months since Grindelwald has fallen. Why did he proceed to elope with the witch if her connections to the dark arts would only attract suspicion from the ministry?"

Nott paused. "I am not sure. He may still be using her. Her family may be tied to an underground rebellion."

Lestrange did not seem convinced. "How can we be sure?"

Nott sighed and shrugged. "We can't. But does it matter? Have you really lost faith in your Lord, Lestrange? Don't let him hear that."

Lestrange tsked. "Whatever the reason I'm sure she will not be a problem much longer. According to Dippet, Morgen is to be taken in for questioning. That is sure to put Voldemort off her."

"Excellent," Nott smirked. "I was growing anxious, waiting to see when the snake would devour the lion."

* * *

Many nights Tom would not sleep. Hermione, who once again took to spending most of her time in the library researching Horcruxes and studying for NEWTs, would retire to bed while Tom sat in the common room reading, studying, planning. Sometimes simply staring at the fire in thought. Occasionally Hermione would get up to use the loo or to get a glass of water and she would see him, chin on his hand and fire reflecting in his eyes. On these occasions she would bring him a cup of tea or, when she was feeling generous, wrap a blanket around his shoulders. He never noticed her and she did nothing to change this.

It was not until two weeks after the ministry ball and a few weeks before the seventh years were schedule to take their NEWT examinations that Tom once again took notice of Hermione in their quarters.

Hermione lay in their bed alone, lightly touching the delicate diamonds he had given her at the Minister's ball with her fingertips. She expected Tom would not sleep again tonight. He had been far too excited after she had revealed to him the extent of his future power.

Tom was indeed pacing the common room as he had many nights since Hermione had exposed he would one day rule the Ministry, but tonight instead of feeling giddy he felt a calm satisfaction. Leading up to the ball he had been carefully planning the next steps of his career as his time at Hogwarts came to an end, placing employment requests at the Department of Mysteries. He had to admit he had been feeling a strong sense of apprehension as he thought of life after Hogwarts. He was scheduled to meet with Dumbledore the following morning to discuss his plans after Hogwarts. He scoffed at this idea. Surely Dumbledore cared very little if he succeeded. As far as he knew Dumbledore trusted him as much as Tom trusted a bicorn.

But tonight, a fortnight after Hermione had revealed his future to him, he felt extraordinary… unique. Tonight he felt calm. Tonight he was in a celebratory mood as he took a swig of firewhiskey, a gift sent by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the oaf had bumped into him and Hermione at the ball. Tom was not one to normally drink liquor, and the hot liquid felt somewhat unpleasant as it burned his insides, but he had to say the unfamiliar effect it had was not altogether disagreeable.

Tom corked the bottle and rose, flicking his wand at the burning embers of the common room fire. He climbed the stairs to their bedroom and entered. Hermione was already asleep. He made little effort to stay quiet as he undressed and crawled into bed. He settled himself near her, taking in her heat before closing his eyes. Before he could drift off to sleep, he felt her move closer to him. He opened his eyes curiously but saw she was still asleep. He did not move. She continued to shift until she was turned towards him, pressed against him, her head resting on his chest.

He was mildly surprised but did nothing to push her off. This position was comfortable and he would not deny her body heat. She sighed and settled, still asleep, as he wrapped his arms around her. He looked down at her curiously. Though they both understood the death of the other would mean far easier lives for themselves, they did seem rather comfortable around each other. He watched her peaceful face and considered for a moment how truly afraid of him she must be and how brave she is to remain by his side all this time. He was distracted, however, by the sigh that escaped her parted lips.

His eyes darted down to them. It may have been the firewhiskey that helped point out how pink and full they were, but suddenly he was hit with just how long it had been... His head moved almost of its own accord and he settled his lips on hers, moving against them softly. She responded lightly in her sleep. As soon as he felt her respond he felt his need grow and allowed his tongue to gently dart forward and lick her lip. He could feel her fighting sleep, trying to regain consciousness. He continued to caress her mouth with his, holding her warm body closely until she moaned and her eyes fluttered open to find him staring at her with need. She reacted with surprise but did not, to Tom's amusement, pull away. She lay, staring at him, waiting for his next move. He turned her so she would face him more fully and pulled her closer into a passionate kiss.

Hermione responded to the kiss fully. She did not know what had inspired this new affection but could only assume he was still pleased with the information she had given him at the Minister's Ball. She tasted firewhiskey on his breath and pulled back.

"Have you been celebrating?" she asked slyly.

"A little," he replied. And it was the truth. Tom Riddle never drank and he felt the dull effects of the alcohol settle him.

Hermione wondered if she might be able to use his unlikely intoxicated state to her advantage. She rolled again so this time she was straddling him. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Have you come up to celebrate some more, my Lord?"

This sent a chill up Tom's spine and caused his already growing erection to harden even more. He ran his hands up her bare thighs and under her nightgown. She sat up and pulled the nightgown up and over her head, tossing it aside.

Her boldness surprised Tom almost to the point of suspicion, but as her hand snaked under his boxers he decided to ask questions later. He held in a groan as she pulled his erection free and ran her hand up the length. He reached up and unclasped her bra as she worked on him. Feeling the need to regain control, Tom pushed her knickers aside and slowly pushed himself into her. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Hermione sigh. He had forgotten how good this felt.

They stayed very still for a moment, becoming reacquainted with the feel of each other. It was Hermione who began to move first, rocking herself gently back and forth along him. Tom snapped open his eyes to see her biting her bottom lip, eyes closed as she worked for her orgasm. He felt himself grow even harder inside her and began to meet her movements. Tom realized this must have been a position Hermione favored because she was soon quickening her pace and it was not much longer before he felt her clench around him as she cried out.

She stilled her movements, breathing heavily, so Tom slowed his, taking his time to scrutinize her. As her breathing slowed she looked down at him, meeting his gaze.

"What is it, then?" she asked, still trying to regain the natural rhythm of her heartbeat.

Tom was not sure what she was talking about, but wished she would wait until he had cum as well.

"The necklace?" Her voice was growing harsher.

Tom stilled but did not pull out of her. He was becoming increasingly irritated with the current progression of events. His erection was still firmly placed inside her and was missing her previous ministrations.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"First you buy me a dress. Then you buy me a beautiful necklace. Now I find you joining me in our bed for the first time in weeks and wake up to you acting like a proper husband should."

Tom noted that despite her anger she had not removed herself from him yet…

"What sort of charm did you place on it?" She demanded.

Realization dawned on Tom as his gaze darted from her anxious face to the diamonds around her neck. He narrowed his eyes. Tom sat up so quickly she was almost dislodged from him, but he wrapped an arm around her so they were face to face.

"So you think whatever you are feeling may be some curse I've place on you?" he asked callously.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Tom felt something snap inside of him. He growled and grabbed the necklace around her neck, ripping it off. Hermione yelped as Tom threw the necklace across the room, smashing it into the wall. The diamonds glittered as they rolled and scattered across the floor. Hermione held her breath as he gripped the back of her neck, holding her close to him.

He asked a question.

"Do you love me?"

Hermione didn't respond, watching the mix of fury, lust, fear, and hope playing in Tom's eyes.

He shook her. "Answer me!"

"Yes," she replied evenly.

She could see him fighting with himself, his fingertips digging into her hip and neck, deciding whether or not it was acceptable for her to truly love him. Trying to understand how love was possible. Perhaps trying to decide whether or not he loved her too. She may as well ask.

"Do you love me?"

She saw his eyes flash and felt his grip tighten.

"I don't want to kill you," he replied.

"That's not a real answer."

Tom could not think about this right now. He could not think at all. He suddenly remembered why he never drank. She continued before he could reply,

"But I'm sure you're not capable of love now, Voldemort, are you? After you've split your soul so many times?" Hermione was not sure why she had said the words; she could only contribute them to the hurt and distrust she was feeling. "I bet you aren't even capable of feeling."

Hermione was proven wrong as she felt his anger burn hot within her. She felt his nails digging into her neck and hip as though he were trying to draw blood.

"I prefer it that way!" he snarled. Hermione let out a small shriek as Tom pushed her off him forcibly. She fell back onto the bed as he rose and pulled a black robe over his head hurriedly. He did not bother to look at her again as he left their bedroom. She rose quickly and followed him out the door to see his retreating back moving toward the common room exit. She rushed to the banister.

"Tom!" she called out, regretting the turn of events.

A pain Hermione had not experience before gripped her, digging at her from the inside out. She could not scream for the pain stunned her. She could only sink to her knees and silently beg her life was not ending. Tom did not turn around, but exited their quarters swiftly.

Panting, Hermione keeled over as unconsciousness took her, noting the lovely sparkle of the diamonds strewn across the floor.

Tom walked furiously through the castle. He was not thinking. He was not cool headed. He cursed love. He cursed pain and any other human emotion he was forced to deal with on a daily basis. Above all he cursed firewhiskey.

Tom rounded the corner leading him to the Room of Requirements, red eyes flashing, purpose sure. He entered a patiently waiting room consisting of a simple table and a cauldron filled with a maturing potion. He walked purposefully up to the cauldron, pulling the diadem and his wand from his robes as he moved.

He had performed the procedure before. It was almost a simple task to him now…

The diadem was placed within the cauldron as he chanted the forbidden curse. The cauldron glowed an eerie red and then the feeling… _oh_ the feeling of his splitting soul, aching and wretched, but almost like being reborn. He welcomed the pain, grateful for anything that could take away the pitiful weakness of humanly _love_.

The pain seemed to echo throughout his body, and he lost track of all time.

* * *

Tom's shined boots clicked on the stone floor as he rushed to Dumbledore's office. The events of the previous night had made him uncharacteristically late, and he was sure Dumbledore would waste no time in pointing out his tardiness. He skidded to a halt in front of the Transfiguration professor's office, regained his breath and lifted his fist to knock.

"Mr. Riddle, it's so good to see even the finest among us can be a little tardy at times." came a voice from behind the door before Tom's knuckles could even touch the wood. Tom clenched his fist tightly, a grimace passing over his face before reaching out to turn the knob.

As soon as he entered he was greeted with the low hum of whirring gadgets, sparkling from every corner of Dumbledore's office. Tom's eyes passed greedily over what looked to be a miniature bell jar containing a fluttering gold bird.

"Have a seat, Tom."

Tom's eyes darted back to the grinning, aging wizard. As Tom moved to the front of Dumbledore's desk and took his seat he noticed long strands of white speckling the auburn beard of his professor.

"You have aged as well, Tom," Dumbledore said kindly. "Into much better health than I can say for myself."

Tom did not say anything. He could not help but feel triumph as well as unease over the wizard's initial stages of decline.

"You look concerned, Tom. I can assure you needn't worry about me. It's not so bad to age as long as one has accomplished what they have wanted, and I still have not given up my dream of leading the Chudley Canons to victory one of these years."

"I did not realize you played Quidditch, sir," Tom said with a straight face.

"I did, like most boys," Dumbledore said pulling a roll of parchment from the side drawer of his black oak desk.

He unrolled the parchment and straightened his glasses on his crooked nose.

"In our previous meeting in your sixth year you had expressed interest in the Department of Mysteries, I have done research into the matter and there are no starting positions within that Department for someone just out of Hogwarts. _However_," Dumbledore stressed seeing the look of annoyance beginning to form on Tom's face, "you have been offered a starting position at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, specifically within the office of Wizenmagot Administration."

Tom did not speak for a moment, but only watched Dumbledore's blue eyes carefully.

"You also work with this office, don't you sir?" Tom said finally.

"The recommendation did not come from me, though I do think you would be very capable at the position. The recommendation came from within the office itself. You must have made a good impression at the Ministry Ball."

Tom wanted to smirk, but resisted. "Was that the only offer, sir?"

This time it was Dumbledore who was silent, watching Tom intently over his spectacles.

Tom really didn't have time for this. "Sir?"

"There has been another offer," Dumbledore finally spoke. "As it seems, Professor Merrythought has planned to retire soon. Headmaster Dippet expressed interest in hiring an assistant who would then ideally take her place. There have been a few names passed around as suggestions. Minerva McGonagall was one. Yours was another."

Tom felt a thrill run through him.

"I am certainly interested in the position, Professor," Tom said earnestly. The chance to stay within the walls of Hogwarts, the only true home he ever had, to tap into more of its hidden power and search for more "gifts" left to him by his ancestor…

"Then we will need to set up an interview," Dumbledore said, making a note. "You will be notified by owl when and where it will be held."

Tom felt a stab of annoyance.

"An interview, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at Tom with his piercing blue eyes. "Since you are not the only candidate we are considering, we will need to be more thorough in our selection process. The interview will be conducted by Professor Merrythought, myself, and the Headmaster."

Tom was disappointed to discover the effects of splitting one's soul did not lessen the amount of anger and hatred he felt towards his old Professor. In fact, the feeling was only more intense, and he found himself struggling to contain his frustration.

"When will this interview be conducted, sir?" He asked as evenly as he could.

Dumbledore ruffled the parchment on his desk.

"The end of term. Perhaps the first week of summer holidays."

Tom breathed deeply, keeping his cool. He was sure Dumbledore's vote was already set against him.

"Thank you, sir. I will consider it." Tom rose quickly, moving toward the door.

"Tom," Dumbledore called, pulling him back. "Please consider taking the job with the Ministry. It appears to provide the most promising route for a man in your position. As Dippet says, you may become minister one day."

Tom was not fooled. He knew Dumbledore only wanted him working at the ministry so he could keep his eye on Tom while still keeping him distant enough from the untapped power of Hogwarts.

Tom nodded curtly and exited the whirring office quickly, already fully confident in his future as ruler of the magical world.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she felt a cool cloth press against her forehead. She had not had anyone do this for her since her mother when she was a small girl. She did not want to open her eyes. She was sure she was in the hospital wing. Where else would she receive such kind treatment?

"What happened to you, Artemis?" Hermione heard a feminine voice whisper about her.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open quickly to see her old roommate sitting on the edge of her and Tom's bed, concern etched on her face. She tried to sit up quickly, panic sweeping through her.

Elizabeth placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder to push her back down and Hermione sank like a rune, dizziness flooding her senses.

"How did you get in?" was all Hermione could muster. Hermione realized this was not exactly the most polite way of thanking the girl who had most certainly found her on the floor and taken care of her, but if Tom had any idea that Elizabeth had been here or that she was at all suspicious of him….

"The crest let me in," Elizabeth said timidly, taken back by Hermione's abruptness. "I suppose it realized you were in danger and allowed me to enter."

Hermione had not been aware of this feature of the Hogwarts' common room entrances. Perhaps she would rewrite her own version of _Hogwarts: A History_. She could call it _Hermione's Hogwarts History: The Tale of a Girl Who's Done it Twice_. Ha. Hermione felt a rush of giddiness followed by nausea sweep through her. Lord Voldemort's curses were really something unique.

She felt Elizabeth returning the cool cloth to her forehead.

"Diamonds aren't worth this, Artemis."

Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly together as her fears were confirmed; Elizabeth suspected Tom.

"You should go," Hermione said weakly. "I'll be fine."

"That would be wise." Tom stood at the bedroom door, his eyebrows raised at the young Gryffindor.

Elizabeth looked between Hermione and Tom. "I don't think—"

"Get out!" Tom snapped at her harshly.

Elizabeth jumped and rose immediately, darting one last anxious look Hermione's way before slipping past Tom, down the stairs, and out the crest entrance.

Hermione watched Tom with tired eyes. Tom returned the gesture.

"The curse that I placed on your Dark Mark, as you've felt, attacks you every time you disobey my direct orders. Repeatedly calling me by that muggle's name is such an order."

Tom moved closer to her as he disrobed. She watched him apprehensively. "Each time you disobey me, the curse grows stronger."

He leaned over her, Salazar's locket dangling from his chest almost close enough to touch Hermione's lips. Tom reached a hand out and smoothed back her curly, honey-brown hair from her forehead. "It will grow stronger the more you disobey me until it finally kills you."

Their eyes were locked in silent understanding as he continued to stroke her hair.

"I have been terribly kind to you, Hermione." Her name sounded like poison on his lips. She did not respond.

Finally, Tom moved into bed beside her, pulled her close, and fell asleep.

Hermione's heart was pounding, her mind racing. Elizabeth was now surely in danger. She did not know how long she had been unconscious for, but by the look of the setting sun it had been at least twelve hours. Lord Voldemort's curse was certainly growing stronger, and she dreaded the day he would command and she would refuse to obey for she knew that day must come if she were ever to complete her plan and defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all. She knew she would not sleep tonight, but was too weak to move from Tom's side.

She noted how much colder his skin felt than it had the previous night.

* * *

Hermione sat beside Elizabeth the following morning in the Great Hall. It was the first time she and Tom had eaten apart, at least in public, since their supposed elopement. Hermione felt relieved, but also somewhat unnerved. She felt his absence and reprimanded herself for it. Hermione had to admit she was genuinely bewildered by their relationship and terrified by the possibility they could be bound together permanently, a possibility that was growing stronger every minute she spent with him.

Yet he grew colder as his soul split. Hermione knew his cruelty would only grow as his humanity waned with time. Even now as Hermione watched him across the Hall sitting with his Slytherin classmates she noticed he appeared more distant than usual, no longer interested in even keeping up the pretense he cared about the people sitting around him. Even Lucretia, usually flirtatious and clingy, was keeping her distance.

Whispers around the Great Hall pulled Hermione out of her musings. She followed the gazes of her fellow Gryffindors to see four wizards entering, each wearing a bright brass "A" pinned on their purple robes. What were Aurors doing at Hogwarts?

Hermione's confusion dwindled slowly as she saw the path the Aurors were taking. They were headed straight for her. _Oh, bloody figures._

Students were standing on their seats to get a better look as an Auror stepped forward from the group directly in front of Hermione and announced:

"Artemis Morgen, under suspicion of conspiring with the late Dark Lord Grindelwald, you are to be held for questioning. Please come with me." His voice was shockingly soft for such a large man, and Hermione may not have entirely believed she had heard him right if he had not forcibly placed his hand on her shoulder and moved her toward the door, the remaining three Aurors following.

Before she was pushed through the heavy doors into the Entrance Hall, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the crowed, but she could not find Tom anywhere.


	29. Master and Servant

Hello there! I keep saying there will only be about two more chapters, but it's expanding itself. But for real, we're now into the final chapters. I appreciate my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I hope JKRowling writes more books about the wizarding world. **withdrawal**

* * *

Drink From My Cup

Chapter Twenty-Eight: _**Master and Servant**_

_Do you know where the wild things go?_

_They go along to take your honey_

_Break down now, weep, build up breakfast now_

_Let's eat my love, my love, love._

_Muscle to muscle and toe to toe_

_The fear has gripped me but here I go_

_My heart sinks as I jump up_

_Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut_

_Please don't go, I'll eat you whole_

_I love you so, I love you so_

_-taken from Alt J, Breezeblocks_

Hermione was familiar with the sudden rush of being in danger. Being one of Harry Potter's best mates forced upon her difficulties that tested her skill and wit, forcing her to turn what she learned within Hogwarts ancient halls into practice. Despite this, she had never before had to feel that sudden rush of danger alone until she found herself thrown back in time, a victim of Lord Voldemort's curse. As Hermione was lead to a private room deep within the ministry of magic, she felt the pressing reality of her solitude in this time. She would have to face the Aurors without the help of Harry or Ron. She was alone.

The hall down which she was being led was the most pristine white she had ever seen. Neither the walls nor the floor or ceiling had any crevices or lines. Even the corners where the edges of the wall and floor met seemed to blend together, making Hermione feel as though she were in a tunnel of light. The Auror assigned to escort her to an interrogation room guided her lightly by the elbow. Hermione noted from his small stature and feeble gait that he did not look threatening, though her past experience with Aurors taught her looks could be deceiving. They stopped suddenly and Hermione felt her foot tap against something solid just in front of her. They must have come to a barrier, but the perfectly blinding white of the interior prevented her from seeing it. The elder Auror lifted his wand above his head and ran it along what appeared to be a solid surface just in front of them. Nothing happened, but the Auror applied pressure to the back of Hermione's elbow once again, and they were able to move forward once more. They took a few steps and Hermione was disappointed to see their scenery had not changed. The white permeated but they did not continue on any further.

The wizard, who had not said anything to Hermione since she was placed in his custody upon arrival at the Ministry, now turned to her.

"Please have a seat," he said evenly.

Hermione looked at the man puzzled, wondering where he expected her to sit, when she noticed a heavy metal chair to her left. Hermione had little time to be impressed with the advanced level of magic at work for as soon as she sat the Auror began to question her.

"What is your name?"

Hermione breathed slowly, trying to use her mind as fast as she could while remaining as calm as possible on the exterior. She could not think of how she would get herself out of this one. She knew they had done enough research into her established lie to know there was never an Artemis Morgen in Germany and no family by that name or extension had been murdered by Grindewald or his followers. She had no family ties in the wizarding world at all. She wildly considered telling the truth for once. Was it really so implausible that she had been thrown back in time by a future dark wizard's horcrux? Hermione felt her stomach drop. Perhaps mentioning her connection with yet another dark lord would not help her case.

"Artemis Morgen," she finally replied.

The Auror looked at her with an impassive stare. Hermione didn't believe for a second he bought her story.

"Where are you from?" he continued.

"Germany," she replied.

"What were the names of your parents?" The Aurors face barely moved as he spoke.

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose. She had been so busy figuring out how to destroy an eighteen-year-old Lord Voldemort she had forgotten to think up much more of a backstory. She had felt safe under Dumbledore's watch inside the walls of Hogwarts. She had clearly been wrong.

"Hansel and Gretel," she said thinking of the first two German names that came to her mind. She pleaded to Merlin that this Auror was a pureblood.

"I see," the Auror replied.

There was a long pause in which Hermione was sure they were convinced she were a spy of Grindelwald.

"And you are a pureblood you say?"

Hermione's heart raced. She was not sure why she said it, but it seemed the most logical thing the do.

"No," she said curtly. "No, I'm not."

This bit of information seemed to surprise the Auror for the barely readable face momentarily shifted, though moments later it would be impossible to tell. "Please remain in your seat," he instructed her and turned and left the room swiftly.

Hermione immediately jumped from the odd metal chair and began to pace anxiously, lifting her hand out to feel the invisible walls. No matter how far she walked in any direction she never came to a solid surface, and the metal chair never moved any further out of range. Hermione urged herself not to panic. She refused to have a seat again.

A long while passed and Hermione found herself wondering as she often did if she would ever see Ron again. Just as she began to think she had failed she heard footsteps.

The same Auror entered the room, still fit in the purple robes, but he brought another man with him. This man did not wear the typical robes of an Auror, making Hermione question who he was and why he had come. He did not speak or look at her, only open the small black satchel he had brought with him and removed a blood red liquid from the inside. Hermione eyes snapped to it immediately apprehensive of any potion they may try to feed her.

As soon as the Auror reentered he insisted she sit again and Hermione gave him a disdainful look as she seated herself slowly back into the thick metal.

"We are going to perform a simple test to determine your innocence," the man informed her, his expression still dull. The non-Auror stepped toward her with the red vial and she pressed her mouth firmly shut. She had too much experience with the ministry to trust they were about to do anything pleasant. This motion did not deter the man who simply stepped forward, took her arm, flipped her palm up, and held her arm gently down on the cold metal armrest. He tipped the contents of the potion onto her exposed wrist. Instead of sliding down and off her arm like a typical liquid, the potion contained itself in a round dis atop her wrist. Hermione studied it curiously before it sunk swiftly into her skin. She screamed in shock and pain. Immediately the liquid began to spread itself into her veins and throughout her body. She could feel every particle of the potion pushing against her bloodstream as it made it's way to her heart. Hermione struggled to stand but her arm had become as heavy as lead.

"It will not harm you," came the monotone voice of the strange wizard.

Hermione begged to differ. The potion felt hot in her veins and she fought the urge to vomit. Just as she were to scream profanities at them the pain receded and Hermione settled. This did not last long for a moment later she felt every droplet of the potion begin to work its way upward out of her veins and through her pours. She watched in mild horror as the potion lifted out of her body like mist and reformed into a spinning disk before her in mid-air. The wizard reached the the tip of the vial to the potion and it settled back into it as though nothing had happened. He lifted the vial up to the light and Hermione saw it. The potion was no longer red, but brown. The wizard turned to the Auror and shook his head and Hermione understood. They had been testing the purity of her blood. She had not been aware such a test existed. She gave the men dark looks.

This was lost of them, however, as they stepped again through the endless white, not even bothering to inform her what had happened or how much longer she needed to be there. Hermione fought hot, angry tears as she massaged her aching arm. She stood from the chair, kicking the thing and began pacing again. It was not long before she began to hear footsteps again, though this time it was a familiar beat.

Her head turned expectantly towards the sound. The boots clicked closer and a moment later Albus Dumbledore was stepping through white nothingness into sight.

Hermione had not felt this relieved since she had seen Harry spring to life out of Hagrid's arms. The fact that he was smiling only added to her relief. She did not wait for him to speak.

"Could you get me out of here?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I don't believe that will be necessary, Hermione. It seems you have gotten yourself out." Hermione gave him a shocked look and he chuckled.

"It seems that they had been under suspicious that your pureblood lineage could not be traced. Once you revealed your true blood line they were able to conclude your parents had simply been muggle victims of Grindelwald's terrorism. I apologize that it had been my original idea to lie about your magical parentage that lead to their suspicion. It was an arrogant fool's mistake."

Hermione took a deep breath, her anger at the purity test still fresh. If she had been a pureblood she would have been held for more questioning, but because she was a muggleborn they arrogantly dismissed her. She appreciated that she was now allowed to leave, but the burden of this time period's bigotry weighed heavy on her. Lying about her true roots had only caused trouble for her in the past. She was relieved she could now be true to herself and drop the pretense of pureblood. But if that were now the case…. Hermione momentarily forgot her anger.

"Sir, will this get out? Will the others at school—" Hermione's voice faded as Dumbledore nodded. "So then Tom..." Hermione stopped speaking, fearing she would reveal too much. Dumbledore noticed her pause. He stood considering her for a moment before speaking.

"I believe it is time, Hermione, for you to tell me what you can. Come. Let's sit," Dumbledore offered and waved his wand, causing two purple, wooden chairs to land beside a growing thimble. Once the thimble grew to the size of a sitting table, Dumbledore flicked his wand once more and two black tea cups and a steaming silver kettle appeared out of thin air and landed gracefully atop it. This was the oddest location Hermione had ever had a tea party. They both sat at the now sizeable purple chairs.

"Have you come to kill Tom?" Dumbledore asked simply.

Hermione's eyes snapped from treacle tarts to his piercing blue eyes. A moment elapsed before she said, "Yes." Hermione was vividly aware she was speaking to the wizard who had most recently defeated the greatest dark lord of his time.

"I see," Dumbeldore said with an impassive expression, reminding Hermione uncomfortably of the Auror who had most recently questioned her. "Is this the reason you were sent back to this time in history?"

"Yes," Hermione answered truthfully. "Tom Riddle becomes very powerful, sir. That's all I can tell you. He takes many lives, including the lives of some of my best friends. I have to defeat him. I have to finish what I started."

Dumbledore considered her words.

"It appears there is magic occurring here beyond what I can currently comprehend."

"This is what you wanted, sir," she said earnestly. "I am acting under your orders. Tom Riddle as he is in my time has already been defeated. I was thrown back in history by a curse and now I'm stuck here until either he succeeds in his return to power, or I defeat him once and for all."

"Then," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "You must complete your task."

"What if I never go back?" Hermione finally dared to ask. "What if I will never see my family or friends again?" Hermione felt her heart sink as she finally allowed the notion she would be permanently stuck in this time to be spoken. "What will I have then? I mean," Hermione continued, "if I were to lose Tom…."

Hermione expected Dumbledore's expression to be condemning but instead she saw sympathy and understanding etched beneath his thin frames. She remembered that not only had Dumbledore defeated the most recent dark lord in history, but that very dark lord had once been his companion, and possibly more…. Hermione knew he was no stranger to the loss of family and lovers.

Dumbledore considered her question, and Hermione noticed several streaks of grey dotting his already sizeable auburn beard. He finally spoke,

"You will have to be capable of letting go of both and realize the possibility you could lose everything. Love, as precious as it is, can also be fleeting. It is one of the greatest mysteries of this world that nothing lasts forever, but love, I believe, can transfigure into many new forms, making it that greatest of old magic."

Hermione considered his words, remembering how it was love that saved Harry the day Voldemort killed his parents.

"But what if I fall in love with something that destroys itself? How could I forgive myself if I knew better?"

Dumbledore's spectacles gleamed in the dim light, shielding his eyes from view as his memory seemed to take him somewhere else.

"When the opportunity to love arises," he finally said almost with a grin. "it would be more of an injustice not to seize it."

Hermione sighed. She understood.

* * *

Tom, panicking, knowing all eyes would be on him, slipped out of the Great Hall as soon as he could shake the intruding questions and voices of concern. Hoping he wasn't being followed, he did something risky. Too risky, he told himself, but feeling the walls of fear pressing in around him, he needed to go to the only place that reaffirmed his power. He headed straight to the girl's bathroom on the second floor. He appreciated the humor.

Tom entered quickly, knowing everyone would still be in the Great Hall, eating and gossiping about what they had just witnessed. He knelt down beside the sink and whispered to the miniature snake etched on the tap. Its eyes twinkled and the sink opened. Tom was grateful the mudblood his beast had killed was clearly off somewhere, probably interested in the most recent gossip. He stepped swiftly into the dimly lit corridor, allowing the sink to shut quickly behind him.

Tom paused for a moment taking in the scene around him. The corridor glowed green and seemed to come to life with his presence. His mood immediately calmed and he stepped further into his stone palace, admiring the echoes his feet made on the great slabs of stone. The snakes winding along the pillars came to life and hissed, whipping their tails at each other. Tom had not been able to return to the Chamber after he had Hagrid expelled. After the mudblood had been killed he could no longer return to the chamber in privacy. As he took in the air of the cool, damp chamber, he was almost grateful for the distraction his wife had caused. The corridor eventually gave way to the great stone room where Salazar's head could be seen watching over everything in his domain.

Tom paused before the face of his ancestor, and all at once the weight of his purpose overwhelmed him and he sank to his knees.

"_Father_," Tom heard himself hiss in parseltongue. "_Father, I have lost my way_."

The earth rumbled and Tom found himself transfixed on the eyes of Salazar, which seemed to dance and sparkle as though alive.

"_Why have you lost your path, young Slytherin?"_ Tom's heart raced and a thrill ran up his spine as he heard the reply.

"_I am—I have_—" Tom could not bring himself to admit his crime, his heart swelling and twisting in his effort to verbalize what Hermione had done to him.

The earth shook harder as Salazar's mouth opened wide. Tom averted his eyes. While being the only one able to control the beast, he was not immune to its dark magic. Out of the corner of his eye he could see, with a mix of dread and excitement, his basilisk moving forward.

"_I have come closer than any other to immortality, Father. I have created many Horcruxes. Even more than the last we spoke!"_

The serpent moved forward over the water and began to wind its way around the young heir, circling its thick body.

"_This does not sound like bad news to me, my child_," the voice hissed in response.

"_There is a woman_," Tom blurted out before he lost his nerve.

"_Yess…_ _I have heard whispers through the pipes…_" hissed the reply.

Tom waited for the voice to continue, but was met with only silence. His breathing grew heavier with its absence.

"_Her blood is not pure!_" he hissed out into the silence. Tom noticed the serpent's long body was now circling a tighter and tighter path around him. "_She is a witch but she was born of muggles_—" Tom froze, not believing the words falling from his mouth.

"_Why have you chosen to ally yourself with her?_" the voice finally hissed.

"_She has become my servant,_" Tom rushed to hiss in his own defense. "_And she is intelligent—"_

"_You have fallen in love with her,"_ the hiss interrupted with a tone of finality. "_And you have come to seek my approval."_

Tom did not speak out of fear he had disgraced his house and insulted his ancestor. He thought of the many pure blooded descendants of his great Father who had used the chamber for the advancement of the true magical lineage and felt ashamed. The serpent's body had closed in enough that it began to twist around his own.

"_But my mother—"_

"_Your mother was weak," _the serpent sung_. "Perhaps you are as well, born of a muggle father…"_

"_NO!" _Tom spat in earnest. "_I am your true heir. That muggle is dead, by my hand!_"

"_Look at me_," came the command. Tom, still avoiding the eyes of the basilisk, looked up to the great stone face of Salazar. The beast had succeeded in wrapping itself around the limbs of the young parselmouth. Tom felt his body ground and twisted until he was facing the head of the basilisk. He felt his stomach sink as his chin was forced upward and his eyes made contact with the beast of Salazar. Tom expected a swift death for his treachery, but instead he found himself staring into the blackest eyes he had ever seen; he realized with horror and awe that these were human eyes set in the head of the serpent, surely a dark magic his ancestor had performed when he claimed ownership of the monster. Tom was transfixed by the stare of the serpent.

"_You must purify yourself. You must purify the line of Salazar_," the beast instructed. "_You_ _cannot do this by following your mother's weakness for love."_

Tom could not speak; the serpent had wound itself so tightly around him he could barely breathe. He could only give his silent comply to obey his ancestor's demands.

"_Bring them here,_" came his next command. "_Show your servants who you truly are_."

Tom felt as though he were in a dream.

"_Bring all of them_."

* * *

By the time Hermione had been fully cleared of all charges (apparently Dumbledore had not been completely truthful that he had not needed to help, considering he was the one on who the Ministry had suspected Hermione was sent to spy) and free to return to school, night had fallen. It was past curfew, but Hermione doubted anyone in their common rooms would actually be in bed. She considered going straight to the Gryffindor Common room to avoid any sort of confrontation with Tom. By now relatives of students within the Ministry would have exposed her true blood line, and it would be the talk of the school that a Slytherin had married a mudblood. While that may have been more acceptable, though still controversial, in her time, it would have been a hot topic for gossip and much scorn from the Slytherins. She could only imagine the show of power Tom would now have to make in order to prove his own purity and right to power. Hermione was grateful the corridors were empty as she made her way back to the Head Boy's, and now her, personal quarters. She braced herself, making sure her wand was in an easily retrievable pocket of her robes as she passed through the crest. She was surprised to find that the common room of their suite was deserted. It appeared as though no one had been in her living quarters since she had left them that morning for breakfast. Surely they would not have given Tom patrol duty while his wife was being held for questioning at the Ministry. Hermione's anxiety grew. She hoped he was with Headmaster Dippet. If not he would most likely be with his Death Eaters, who would have just recently discovered his bride was a mudblood…. The only other possibility is that he had wandered off alone somewhere. This final thought unnerved Hermione the most and she found herself hoping he was with anyone at all.

A long while passed and Hermione took out her notes, as though she were about to study, and carelessly flipped through the pages. She could not concentrate and it was far too late to study. The fire she had lit was beginning to dim and she took out her wand and rose, aiming it at the dying embers causing the flames to reignite. Simultaneously the crest swung open. Hermione gave a little jump as Tom entered and spun to face him, wand still in hand.

He entered almost drunkenly, moving toward the back of an armchair, leaning over it, and gripping the soft leather tightly under his fingers. It was clear he had spent quite some time alone. Hermione felt an inexplicable sense of relief at the sight of him. He stood, breathing deeply for a few moments before lifting his head and looking directly at her. His expression was odd and Hermione could feel an energy radiating off of him that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Hello, Hermione," he said calmly.

Hermione was not sure how to react. She did not trust his calm exterior for a second.

"Have you been drinking again, my Lord?" she asked, almost hoping this was all he had been up to.

"No," he replied and held her gaze for a moment before continuing. "Do I seem intoxicated?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully.

Tom held her gaze in silence before looking down, giving the armchair a tight squeeze and straightening up. He made to take a step toward her and she tensed. He noticed the movement and his eyes went to her wand. A mad grin spread across his face. Hermione gripped her wand a little tighter.

Tom took a step back and pulled his own.

"I don't want to fight, Voldemort," Hermione said coldly, lifting her wand and readying herself for whatever he might throw at her.

"I believe you do, Hermione," he said taking slow steps toward her. Hermione moved to her right and soon they were circling each other. She could feel it. Something inside of him had snapped. What she had mistaken for intoxication was the effect that his own untamed magic was having upon him. This was common among the youngest wizards and witches before they arrived at Hogwarts, and the mentally unstable.

Hermione could feel the magic radiating off of him, like an electric current, and saw the mad, desperate glint in his eye. She knew he was not making any rational decisions tonight.

"Where have you been, Voldemort?" Hermione asked trying to pull Tom back in from his madness, wand still poised at the ready.

"_To see an old friend_," he hissed at her in parseltongue. He laughed coldly at her expression.

Hermione's brain flew into a frenzy, connecting the dots. He had reentered the chamber. Did this mean the beast had been set lose on the school again? She knew of one particular muggleborn that was a great thorn in Tom's side….

"My basilisk remains underground,_ Hermione_," he hissed only her name and though Hermione could not speak the ancient tongue, she understood. "I would not again risk Hogwarts being closed."

Hermione took a breath of relief that he had not lost all his senses. Despite this she knew at the moment while his wand was still drawn and his magic wild, she was still in danger. He wanted a fight.

So she would give him one.

He made to move as though to throw a hex, but Hermione's experienced eye caught the movement and she immediately sent a nonverbal shield charm toward him followed by a particularly nasty stunning charm. Normally this counter would have been enough, but Tom was in step tonight.

He waved his wand, catching the shield and used it to block her hex. He flicked his wand and the chair beside her sprung to life, reaching its thick cushioned arms out to grab her. Hermione set the thing on fire and sent it flying through the air at him.

Tom raised his wand and the chair and flames froze in midair in a still frame. Hermione watched with mild admiration as the flames stripped themselves from the chair to form together into a chain. The chair fell lifeless to the ground and the fire whip roared toward Hermione, circling her. She had to admit he was even better than Harry, more disciplined, more accurate. She, however, had more field experience.

She whispered and her wand emanated a blue light that expanded, stretching the flames until they thinned and died. The light continued to grow around her until it reached out to Tom pushing him back against a wall. Hermione smirked.

He countered with a hex Hermione did not recognize that glowed a burnt orange. She shouted "_Protego!_" in defense and as the spells met in the middle Tom's singed and spit. Hermione gave Tom a dark look. He was using black magic against her. She stilled and readied herself for the next curse.

He shot a blinding white curse at her which she side stepped. That one she recognized as the Imperius. A hot pink flash followed and she again shouted "_Protego!"_ This time as the spells met in midair, the pink split her charm and continued straight for her, she side stepped again, but the curse struck her shoulder. She slashed her wand toward him ignoring the pain. A streak of purple flames flew and struck Tom in the chest. He fell to his knees.

She approached him, breathing heavily and rubbing her left shoulder. She was not sure what that curse had been but she was sure she would feel the after effects for a long time. She stood over him, watching as he clutched his chest, fighting to draw breath.

"You taught your Death Eaters well, Voldemort," she said cheekily. "And in turn they gave me some lessons."

He looked up at her, gasping, the same mad look in his eye but this time mixed with a glint of something else. He threw his wand down and she held his gaze, waiting for him to regain his breath. She knew that curse well and had not struck at him with the full power Antonin Dolohov had used against her at the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione jumped as Tom reached up and grabbed her hips, he pulled her closer and rested his forehead against her legs as his breathing began to slow. Hermione sighed and placed her hand gently on the top of his head. She could feel his energy, still raw, still wild but settling. She remembered this is what her mother used to do with her after she would have similar fits of magical rage. Similar was a stretch. She had not sent dark jinxes flying at anyone, though she had once accidently set the neighbor's lapsadoodle on fire, but it had not been large enough to do anything but singe the tuft of fur at the end of its tail. That had been during her terrible two's. Hermione wondered who had done this for Tom when he had been too young to understand or control his magic and thought with a stab of sympathy that it was more likely he had been locked away in a room by himself during these fits by equally confused and terrified muggles who did not love him enough to understand. The compassion Tom saw in her that he claimed was her greatest weakness was actually her greatest strength. She felt his forehead and recognized the fever. This was not the sort of fever caused by illness. It was caused by unsettled magic.

"I love you," she heard him breathe.

Hermione believed him. This did not change anything, she knew. He had to stop her just as surely as she had to defeat him. If he would not stop his quest for immortality and power, she would not stop trying to destroy him.

Hermione remembered what Dumbledore had said to her merely hours ago. When the opportunity to love arises it would be more of an injustice not to seize it. For just this moment, before all hell broke loose, they could be in love. He pulled at her hips again and she sank to the floor in front of him. She avoided his eyes and instead unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt. He tensed as she slipped her hand into his shirt and pressed her palm flat against his chest. She whispered an incantation and he immediately felt relief from the curse she had cast.

And then he looked at her and she met his gaze. Hermione knew with that look no matter how many times he split his soul he could not escape how he felt about her. He loved her.

Regardless of his recent proclamation he looked exhausted. Hermione took hold of his arms and began to lift him up, with the idea they should go to bed. He grabbed her arms, suddenly, and with more strength than she believed he had, pulled her back down to him.

"We cannot stay here," he said weakly. "My Death Eaters will be asking questions."

"I know." Hermione had suspected he would do this. In order to keep his most vulnerable Horcrux safe he would have to remove her from the reach of those that he himself had filled with so much bigotry and hate.

"I'm not taking my NEWTs," he informed her. She sighed. She had noticed he spent more time in the restricted section of the library rather than studying more NEWT appropriate material. "Tomorrow we will go rent a flat. I will ask Burke for work."

This was what Hermione had been waiting for all along. Once he began working for Borgin and Burke he would lead her straight to Helga's horcrux. As excited as she was by this information she tried not to think about it at the moment. She did not know if Tom would even remember any of this in the morning. She realized they were not going to make it upstairs as Tom drooped in front of the fire. She conjured blankets and pillows for the two of them and settled herself against his now resting form fully aware how bizarre it was this very person had been trying to hex her not even an hour ago. She was not pretending the young Voldemort was a stable person.

Before she allowed herself to succumb to exhaustion she realized with amusement that this was the second time Lord Voldemort had prevented her from taking her NEWTs, and she had been so close this time.

Hours later just before the dawn, Hermione would pretend she was still asleep when Tom stirred and reached out his hand, settling it on her aching left shoulder and gently squeezed it, sending healing magic through her body.


End file.
